Don't Let Go
by Principessa Di Morte
Summary: House, Chase, and Wilson have been taken from the very place they thought safe and dragged through their darkest fears. Now, returned home, beaten and teetering on the edge, they have to gather themselves and try to return to life. But is that possible?
1. A New Mystery

Dr. Robert Chase strode down the hospital corridor, House's last patient's file in his hands. Cuddy had asked to see it, he wasn't sure why. It wasn't really his business what went on between House and Cuddy. He stopped outside the doors to her office, stretching and wincing. He had been insanely sore for about half an hour now. He'd gone running that morning, but he did that everyday. And this wasn't just sore. It was more of a dull, pounding ache resonating throughout his body.

Aah, oh well. It'd probably be gone in a while. He pushed Cuddy's doors inward and stepped inside.

"Hey," he greeted. "I brought you that file."

Cuddy smiled, gratified. Chase handed them to her and stepped back, stretching again. Cuddy must have noticed the tightness in his face because she asked if he was alright. He nodded.

"Fine, just really sore. I don't-." Suddenly he fell to his knees, gasping. Cuddy jumped up and dashed around her desk.

"Chase? What's wrong? Chase?!" He grabbed her wrist, and looked up. Cuddy found herself staring into his eyes, and for a moment she saw a pain and desperation she had never seen in Chase before. Then he looked back down, and it was gone, but the memory lingered. It had shaken her.

After a moment Chase relaxed, his breathing shallow. He struggled to his knees, leaning against Cuddy's desk.

"Well—what was that?" She asked.

He shrugged, looking bewildered. "I-I don't know."

They both looked up when they heard the door open. Dr. James Wilson looked in, head cocked, brow scrunched.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, concerned upon seeing them on the floor.

Cuddy nodded. "Yeah. Chase just—."

Suddenly Chase leaned over again and moaned, arms tight around his abdomen. Cuddy shook her head as she helped him away from the desk.

"-did that." She finished dryly.

Chase was gasping through his teeth. Wilson knelt next to him, bracing him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Chase?" He asked gently. "What is it? Stabbing pain? Cramping?"

Chase shook his head. "Both." He ground out.

"Can you give me a number?"

The young Australian doctor collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

"Yeah, I'd say that's pretty bad." Wilson sighed.

* * * *

Chase woke up in an overly bright, sterile room. He looked down and saw he was dressed in a hospital robe. Hearing something beside him, he glanced over and saw Cuddy looking worriedly down at him. When she saw that he was awake, she smiled.

"Hey- how are you?"

He rubbed his eyes with a hand. "Fine. Could be better. Still sore. What did you give me?"

"A few cc's of morphine and a muscle relaxant."

"How long was I out?"

"About fifteen minutes."

Chase nodded, then grimaced. Cuddy frowned.

"Something wrong?"

He shook his head. "No. Like I said, I'm still just really sore. I can't think of why."

Cuddy turned to leave. "Well…. I'll have someone check up on you every few minutes, alright?"

Chase nodded, and she left shaking her head. Once she got around a corner, she stopped and leaned against the wall. She was worried. Honestly, she'd gathered a fondness for Chase over the years. He just seemed so gentle and innocent, however naïve sometimes. She sighed and hoped whatever was wrong turned out to be nothing.

* * * *

House stared unhappily down at the three stark white Vicoden pills on his desk. Sometimes he wondered how many he could take within the course of a day and not be hospitalized. Someone at the door made him look up. It was Wilson. House quickly swallowed the pills dry as the other doctor walked into his office. Wilson stared at him.

"Did you just take _three_ Vicoden?" He questioned.

House rose an eyebrow. "Sorry, mommy, did I break the rules?" He threw the pill bottle at Wilson, who reflexively caught it before it hit his face. He peered down at the transparent orange item in his hand.

"Empty!? He exclaimed. "House, I just gave these to you four days ago!!"

"Did I eat too much candy again?" House pouted, still playing the part of an ignorant child.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "House, stop it. You know I can't write you another prescription for three more days!"

House said nothing, but stood. Wilson noticed the slight tremble in his hands as he leaned heavily on his cane.

"House, are you okay?" Wilson inquired worriedly.

"Fine." House snapped. "Now you came here for a reason. What is it?"

Wilson handed him a file, taken aback by House's sudden change in tone.

"It's Chase. He collapsed in Cuddy's office this morning after having severe abdominal pains."

"Are you sure he's not pregnant?" House asked. Wilson glared at him as he continued to flip through the file. "Black widow bite." House stuck the file out at the oncologist. Wilson didn't take it.

"Negative tox screen. Besides, we couldn't find a bite."

"Maybe it hasn't swelled."

"House, where the symptoms are, he would have to have been bitten at least two hours ago. There would be swelling, severe localized pain, and definitely marks. There is nothing. Besides, he hasn't had any of the other normal symptoms. Like anxiety, sweating, salivating... It's not a widow bite."

House tucked the folder under his arm and started for the door, but stumbled and almost fell. Wilson braced his shoulders, alarmed.

"Ha." House said, looking at Wilson as if to say "gotcha", but Wilson could see the pain in his friend's eyes. He shook his head.

"Where are you going?"

"To check up on my patient."

* * * *

"Well, this is new. Actually visiting a patient?" Chase needled from his bed.

"This one's cuter than the rest." House shot back. "After all, I love Australians."

Chase clenched his teeth as another wave of cramping hit. House walked over to the side of the bed, cane tapping on the tiled floor.

"You're not even on a drip?! Who the heck set you up?"

"Cuddy."

"Figures. She was probably so busy worrying she forgot to do anything." He sneered, setting up an IV.

He slid the needle into Chase's wrist and turned the drip up to 6cc's an hour, injecting about 2 directly into his IV line. Chase almost immediately relaxed. House sat next to the bed.

"So. What happened?"

"If I knew that, I probably wouldn't be here."

"Obviously, stupid. How bad was it?"

".. Seven and a half."

"That bad."

Chase nodded.

"Well," House began, starting to stand but falling back to the seat and grimacing. Chase's eyebrow rose.

"You alright?"

"You're the one in the hospital bed." House muttered, rubbing his thigh.

Chase didn't respond. In fact, he had gone completely silent. House looked up. Chase had gone pale and was trembling. No, wait—not trembling--shaking. Violently. House swore under his breath.

"Nurse!"

He leaned over the bed, struggling to hold the convulsing doctor still while searching for a syringe. A young female in scrubs ran into the room. After quickly assessing the situation, she held Chase as best as she could, keeping him from hurting himself so House was free to look for a sedative. He searched through the drawers, wondering what idiot had moved the drug from it's normal place. After a glance at the room number, he realized it had probably been him.

Finally, he emerged victorious, and quickly filled the syringe with 5cc's of a moderate sedative, struggling to inject it into Chase's upper arm. The blonde-haired form slowly sank back into the hospital bed, eyes closed, skin deathly pale.

* * * *


	2. Problems

"Okay, differential diagnosis, people."

Foreman and Cameron watched House scrawl the symptoms on his whiteboard.

"Convulsing and abdominal pain? Soreness?" Foreman sounded slightly surprised. "House, you usually have more for us."

"Okay… _severe _abdominal pain, _violent _convulsing, and _all-day_ soreness. Better?"

Foreman rolled his eyes.

"Where's Chase?" Asked Cameron.

House looked at her. "He called in sick. Back to the board, people!"

"You seem to be very eager to solve this. Who is it?" Foreman questioned.

"My invisible friend Bob." House replied. "Can we try to concentrate on the board now?"

"Why won't you tell us?" It was Cameron now. "Where's the patient file?"

House rolled his eyes. "Does no one care about the board anymore? We're saving someone here!"

"Yeah, but we need their file to save them. We don't know history, family, tendencies, and etcetera. Why won't you show it to us?"

"It's Chase, isn't it?" Foreman had leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, brow creased.

"House stared at him. "Darn you black men. You're all so _dang _smart."

"It's Chase?! But he was perfectly fine yesterday!"

"Well, you know how those _deadly _diseases work. They can attack at any time. Any one of us could contract them. I could drop dead at any moment. And I might if we don't start diagnosing like our job description says!"

"Black widow bite." Foreman said, still leaning back but now with his eyebrows raised.

"Tox screen negative, and they couldn't find a bite." House retorted, then quickly added, "two hours ago" before the question could be asked. "He then proceeded to sit in Chase's normal chair, massaging his thigh.

"You never sit down during a differential. You're always pacing. Something wrong?" Cameron asked, cocking her head.

"I'm fine." House defiantly stood back up, hiding a wince behind his usual smirk.

Cameron leaned forward, peering at the whiteboard. She shook her head.

"What about-?" Cameron began, but was cut off by a flushed young male knocking on the glass differential room door. House motioned impatiently for them to come in.

The door opened, and a young nurse rushed in. He looked to be only about 19-an intern?- and he had tousled dark brown hair and deep green eyes.

"Dr. House?"

"Yes?"

The intern stepped closer. "I'm Jake. Your patient- er, doctor- er, um.."

"Spit it out!" House snapped, sitting down again.

Jake jumped. "Ah- Dr. Chase. He's awake.

* * * *

Chase blinked his eyes open to find House staring down at him. He jumped, then winced.

"Ouch! Agh- my neck- what..?"

"You convulsed. Probably whiplash."

Chase's eyebrows rose. "Snap. Got any idea what's wrong with me yet?"

"Nope. That's why I'm here. I need blood."

Chase immediately stuck his arm out. House tied the tourniquet around Chase's bicep and expertly swabbed the soft skin below it. He gently slid the needle in, waiting for the dark red blood to partly fill the glass tube in his hand. Chase suddenly jerked forward.

"Aah—frik—." He grasped his midsection with his free arm. House quickly pulled the syringe out and undid the tourniquet, then turned Chase's drip up 2cc's an hour and injected some into his line. Chase soon lay back down, sweating. House's brow creased.

"Are you hot?" He didn't even add a joke.

"No." Chase's eyes darted around.

"Chase?"

The auzzie's eyes locked onto House. He looked desperate; scared.

"Crap." House muttered. He silently apologized to Chase for leaving the room.

* * * *

"Anxiety…. And increasingly painful abdominal cramps. What about appendicitis or a gall problem?" Foreman asked.

House ran both hands through his hair. He was seated in Chase's chair again. He rubbed his thigh and instinctively reached for his Vicoden, but remembered it wasn't there and held back a curse. He leaned forward in his chair, shoulders tense.

"House, are you alright?"

Boy, he was getting tired of that question. Of course he wasn't alright, did it _look _like he was?

"House?"

Without answering, he stood up, shifting his weight to his left side, and stepped toward the board. Even that small movement made him gasp softly, but he struggled to his destination, attempting to hide his pain.

"House. Appendicitis? A gall problem?"

House finally tuned into Foreman's voice. "No…" He replied. "No, he convulsed, and he was sweating…"

"So he has a fever, or he's allergic to an antibiotic he took."

House shook his head. "He doesn't have a fever! If anything, his temperature is _lower _than normal." He looked strained and frustrated.

"Some kind of bad virus?" Cameron suggested.

"He _convulsed._ Normal viruses don't cause people to convulse." Foreman objected.

"But as we've learned in our profession, nothing is normal. Go do the tests." House ordered.

"For what?"

"For any freaking virus you want! Just don't take too much blood. He's prone to fainting."

Cameron looked at him to see if he was being his usual sardonic self, but for once, she couldn't tell.

Thank you for the reviews! I know writers say this all the time, but they really do inspire us! (You all know what I'm talking about.) I already have a lot ahead of this already typed up, so it should be posted soon. Hope it's captivating. (And it does get better.)


	3. Treatment?

Cameron walked down the hall, heels tapping to the beat of her steps. Thoughts pulsed through her head like a strobe light.

_What's wrong with House? His leg pain is getting worse. Why didn't he tell us we were diagnosing Chase? So we'd be indifferent, stupid. What viruses should I test for? Anything…._

She stopped outside room 613- Chase's room- and peered inside. The young doctor, usually laid back but energetic, looked pale and still. His eyes were closed, but Cameron didn't think he was asleep. He had a strained look on his face. Cameron sighed and stepped into the whitewashed room. Chase opened his eyes.

"Hey." He greeted.

"Hey. How're you doing?"

"Could be better."

"Yeah. Hey, um…"

"More tests?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." He stuck his arm out for the second time that day, and Cameron set everything up by routine. She stuck the needle into his arm. He winced.

"Am I hurting you?" She asked.

Chase shook his head, then winced again. "Dang whiplash. I'm still sore, you know. What are you testing for?"

"Ummm… some bad viruses.. or infections."

He cocked his head.

"Which ones?" She stayed silent. "You don't know yet, do you?" He asked incredulously. "You don't know what you're going to-." He gasped.

Cameron glanced up, alarmed, as she pulled out the needle. Chase was grimacing.

"Your stomach again?"

He nodded. She stood, using a clean syringe to take some morphine out of his IV bag and put it straight into his line, then upped his drip by one cc an hour and frowned.

"This is bad, Chase. We can't give you too much morphine, but if it's still hurting this much.. or getting worse…. Did you take the pill Cuddy gave you?"

He nodded. Cameron looked down grimly at the blood sample she'd collected. Just as she was about to leave, she noticed something.

"Chase.. you're not feeling anxious?" She questioned, turning back towards him.

"Well, I _am _in a hospital bed…"

"Other than that. You know what I mean."

"No."

"And you've stopped sweating, too. Good." She smiled and left the room.

It was quiet for a few minutes, then the door swung open again. A young nurse or intern entered, pushing a cart in front of them. He rolled it to the side of the bed and stood there awkwardly for a second.

"Umm… I'm Jake.. Cuddy sent me. She said you might need.." He held up a catheter kit.

"Oh, uhh.. I'm fine, actually."

"Yeah. She said you might say that, and. Well.."

"That you should give it to me anyway?"

Jake nodded.

"Really, I'm fine. I can get to the bathroom. Here, look." Chase pushed the sheets of his legs and swung them over the edge of the bed. Bracing himself on the side of it, he stood—only to collapse to the floor. Jake ran around the bed to the fallen doctor.

"Are you alright?!"

Chase shook his head, eyes wide. "My- my legs. I can't move my legs!

* * * *

"Paralysis of the legs. What does that tell us?"

"That it's neurological?" Foreman guessed.

"_I _asked _you _a question. Don't answer with one."

"That it's neurological." Foreman repeated, saying as a statement now.

"Hmm.. okay, well, how do we prove it?"

"An MRI?"

House glared at him. Foreman sighed in aggravation.

"An MRI."

"Good! Do it. I'm leaving. It's late."

"You're _leaving? _Now?!" Cameron exclaimed.

"Try not to miss me too much." House limped out the door.

* * * *

Wilson looked up from a patient's file as his office door swooshed open. House came in, trying to look casual, but there was an undercurrent of stress in his movements. He sat in a chair across from Wilson.

"I need a ride home."

Wilson peered at him. "Didn't you bring your bike?"

"Yeah, well, it's kinda chilly…"

"House, just how bad is your leg hurting?"

"Here's the thing. My bike's running out of gas.."

A very familiar crease appeared between Wilson's eyebrows.

"I should take a look at it."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't need to."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm not leaving until nine, and that's half an hour away."

House's jaw clenched. Wilson bit his lip and pointed to the couch.

"You can rest there until I'm done if you want."

House pushed up out of the chair and limped to the couch, sitting while turning sideways and pulling his left leg up, then tugging his other up with both hands. Wilson sighed and reluctantly left the office.

* * * *

"Something's wrong with House." Wilson had entered Cuddy's office. She squinted at him.

"Something is always wrong with House. What have they got on Chase?"

"No, I mean actually wrong." He didn't reply to her question.

Cuddy looked witheringly at him. "So give him meds. Why are you talking to me about this?"

"Lisa, listen." James pleaded. Cuddy softened a bit at the urgency in his voice and the use of her first name. "He's already finished his Vicoden that I gave him 4 days ago!"

She shook her head.

"What do you want me to do? You can give him morphine just as well as I can."

"I don't know—he won't let me examine it. Maybe you can talk to him."

Once again, her black curls swished as she shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Wilson. I really am. But there just isn't anything I can do."

She turned and left, the door swinging shut behind her.

* * * *

So, I know he uses the bike because it doesn't bother his leg, but... think alterior motives, if you get me (which you prolly don't...) Nevermind. I'm insane. All I'm saying is, let's say the stress of turning corners is too much ;) I'm pretty much updating fast as I can, but I have A LOT of writing to get through, so I don't know how long it'll all take. Anywho... enjoy!


	4. Gone

Wilson clipped down the hall at a brisk pace, frustration swirling through his mind. He was frustrated at House for being so darn stubborn, frustrated at Cuddy for not caring or doing anything, and frustrated at himself for being so helpless. He stopped outside the door to his office, ready to burst inside, but his tirade was halted when he glanced inside.

House was still laying on the couch, but he had moved, scooting back so his lower back was against the armrest and he was sitting up. But he had leaned forward, almost curled into an upright fecal position. Wilson pushed the door in and quietly stepped inside.

"House?"

He looked up. "I thought you were working."

"I decided I would take it home. Are you okay?"

House rolled his eyes. There was that dang question again. He didn't answer.

"Well…. I'm leaving now."

House pulled his right leg off the couch, followed by his left, and thumped his cane on the ground. He stood shakily. Wilson watched with a concerned frown. House walked to the door with a much more pronounced limp than usual. Wilson shook his head. They both turned and walked down the hall. Turning the corner, a commotion greeted them. It was outside room 613.

"Hey! What's going on?" House yelled.

An intern emerged from the room, where a small crowd had gathered.

"Hey, Jason!" House stopped him in his tracks. The young man turned to him, a puzzled look on his face.

"Me?" House nodded. "I'm Jake."

House rolled his eyes. "Whatever. What's going on?"

"It's- it's Chase.. he's gone!"

* * * *

"So he's hallucinating. Have you looked upstairs and on the roof?"

"I don't think you understand, sir. They've looked everywhere in the hospital! He's _nowhere._"

Without a word, House set off down the hall. Wilson jogged after him.

"Where are you going?"

House didn't reply. Wilson, realizing he wasn't going to get an answer, rolled his eyes and fell into step next to the diagnostician. They turned a few corners, drifting towards the main part of the hospital. House turned and burst into Cuddy's office, startling her. She was on the phone, but after sending a fierce glare towards House, said, "I'll have to call back, alright?', and hung up. She looked up.

"What?" It wasn't very friendly.

"My patient's missing."

Cuddy squinted at him. "Chase?"

House rolled his eyes. "_No, my invisible friend Bob! _Yes, Chase!"

"He's probably hallucinating. Where have you looked?'

"Everywhere."

Cuddy's eyebrows rose. "_Absolutely _everywhere?"

House nodded, and Cuddy began to look worried.

"Well, should we call someone? Have you looked outside? On the roof?"

"Uh-oh, she's freakin' out. Wilson, you take her. Adios!" He walked out of the office.

"House-!" Wilson sighed and turned back to Cuddy. "We'll look for fifteen more minutes. If we haven't found him by then, call the police."

* * * *

Chase woke to blinding pain. He gasped, struggling to sit up. He braced himself to push up so he was sitting with his back against the headboard, but fell back, grimacing. His eyes began focusing, then went fuzzy again before finally clearing. It took him a moment to realize he'd been moved. And they obviously hadn't put his IV in yet. But it had to have only been a few minutes-he shouldn't be feeling this much pain. And why did they move him? Did he pass out? And- his thoughts were interrupted by an abrupt realization. He was no longer in the hospital.

His head was spinning. _What--? Where am I? What the heck is going on?_ He was in a small bright room with soft tan walls and a carpeted floor of the same color. The only furnishings were the bed Chase was laying in and a small sink. There were no windows, and the door looked locked. Just as the last thought passed through his mind, the door clicked open and swung inward. A young man—almost a teen, really—walked in.

Chase squinted at him. _No way…_

"I've seen you before…"

The young man glared at him. "You should have! I've been at your little hospital for _six months _now."

Chase's eyes widened. "No…"

A wicked grin grew on the other man's face. "That's right. It's me. Little Jake. And no one would ever suspect it, either. I mean, who would ever think of practically a part-time nurse capturing a doctor? That's right, Dr. Robert Chase. _Capturing. _You're mine. You can't get out, and sooner or later, I'll use you for my purposes. Before this, no one could even give me the time of day. Dr. House couldn't even remember my name. But now- oh, if they could see me now! They'll all see!! But no, not yet. Not until everything is complete…"

Chase stared at him like he was a madman. What was he thinking, he _was _a madman!!

"You're crazy!! What are you planning on doing?! Forget it, they're sure to have noticed we're _both _gone by now! Don't you think that's just a little suspicious?"

"Well, no… not exactly. You see, that _would _be suspicious if you were right. But you aren't. Because for all technical purposes, I'm still at the hospital."

"What?! How can-- You know what? It doesn't even matter. You still can't get away with something like this! It's _insane!_"

The other man just rose an eyebrow. "Is it, Dr. Chase? Is it really, truly insane? I've worked in the Psychology ward. I've seen insane. I'm not insane. I'm simply... open. I show what's in us all. After all, don't we all have an inner desire to… improve things? I am making the world a better place! You'll all thank me after I'm done here! At least, those of you that are left… but sacrifices must be made in science, isn't that right now, Dr. Chase?"

"No! What are you even talking about?! You're insane! Totally, completely _in. sane._"

The smile on his captor's face dissipated. "You will learn, Dr. Chase. You will soon learn. Oh, and—sorry about the morphine drip and those muscle relaxant pills. We couldn't quite manage to bring them along. So little room in those getaway vans.. Ah, well, I'm sure you can manage without them. Sorry about that." With one last evil smile, he turned on his heel and left, closing and locking the door behind him.

* * * *

House limped laboriously up the last step and opened the door wide to fresh air. He hobbled over to the edge of the roof and sighed, a silent curse sweeping through his head. Not here. He believed everyone, but he still wanted to check for himself. After a glance at his watch told him it had been almost twenty minutes, House turned and headed back to the door, but halted in his tracks, taking a deep breath. He sat down right where he was, setting his cane beside him.

Sweat slowly traced a path down over his cheekbone to his chin. His breathing had become shallow during the climb up to the roof. His leg throbbed, which caused his head to throb, which in turn caused nausea to boil in his stomach. He rubbed his right thigh, biting his tongue. Suddenly, the door opened, and House instinctively started to stand, then immediately regretted it. He stayed sitting, leaning over his thigh, and Wilson, who was the one who'd come up, ran over.

"House! What's wrong?"

Oh, brother. At least he hadn't asked the other question.

"Nothing. Just resting." He struggled to get up.

Wilson cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah, looks like nothing." He said dryly.

House glared at him. Wilson just shrugged.

"Just stating the facts." He walked over, sighing, and held out his hand. House glanced around, then reluctantly took it.

"Why are you so closed to people, House? Everyone needs help sometimes."

"Don't start this conversation right now."

"I _will _start it right now!" Wilson stopped walking and turned to House. "Greg, please. I don't—." He paused, sighing. "I get it. You're in pain. You're worried. Maybe you think if you show it, you'll look—I don't know, you'll look weak or something. But the truth is… everyone knows it. And it's not because you're weak, it's because everyone feels those same things!! Yeah, you have to deal with your leg, but you don't have to push people away from you! This is the time when you need relationships most, and this is also the time when yours are at their worst! And why is that?" He said the last words slowly, peering at his seemingly impenetrable friend. "You're worried, your leg is getting worse, and you need help and comfort. Why can't you accept that? You're a doctor; you know more than anyone what people feel. You're a person. Why don't you seem to know what you're feeling?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose and threw up his hands, then turned and walked away.

House stood there, leaning on his cane, for what must have been at last ten minutes. Finally, he opened the door and started down the steep, long staircase.

* * * *

Alrighty, that chapter was just a bit longer. Tell me what you think. It'll get more fast-paced real soon, so stick around. Once again, I hope you like it.


	5. A Companion

Cuddy sat in her office, staring at her hands. She was weary and worried, and she didn't know what to do. It had been thirty minutes, and she had called the police twenty of them ago. Wilson had said fifteen, but she couldn't bear it any longer. The hospital wasn't that hard to search, especially if you knew where to look, and if they had already been searching for a while even before House and Wilson had come in, well… She shook her head. What was taking so long?

Just then, her door opened. She looked up, but was almost disappointed to see Wilson standing just inside her office. She motioned for him to sit down. He did, and was silent for a moment. She peered at him.

"Did you find anything?"

He shook his head.

"Then why are you in here?" That didn't come out right. Wilson looked up at her, and Cuddy's features softened. He looked frustrated, anxious, and just plain worn out.

"I talked to House."

"Oh?" Why was that a big deal?

"He was looking on the roof."

"Okay…" Again, not a very significant statement…

"I know the roof has been checked at least three times already.

She cocked her head. "He likes to see things for himself."

He shook his head. "Why would he climb all those stairs when his leg was hurting so bad, just to look in a place that he knew would hold no answers?"

"Maybe he thought they missed something."

"That's not it."

"Well, maybe his leg isn't hurting as bad as you think it is. Look, the police are going to be here any minute, they're probably already here-."

"He was all but passed out when I found him. Again, why would he go up there for nothing?"

She stopped, looking wearily at him, but a touch of worry laced her expression now.

"I don't know. Where is he now?"

"Well…. I'm not sure, exactly…"

"You mean, he came down with you but then you separated?"

Wilson winced. "Uhhh.. No…"

Cuddy's eyes widened. "You _left _him up there? You're the one that just said how hard it was for him to climb the stairs!"

Wilson looked helplessly at her. "I got frustrated!"

She stood up. "Come on."

He followed suit and they both hurried out of her office to the door that led to the roof. Cuddy pushed it open and rushed inside. She grabbed the railing and dashed up the first couple steps.

"House? Are you still here?"

There was no reply. She glanced at Wilson and climbed higher, stopping at a landing and turning, then calling out again. She hesitated, but Wilson motioned for her to keep going. She continued her routine until she reached the third landing. That time, when she turned, she halted, face draining of all color. Wilson nearly bumped into her from behind.

"Lisa? What-." He stopped and his eyes grew wide. "House!" Cuddy ran forward, closely followed by him.

The diagnostician was sprawled on the platform in front of them, unmoving and deathly pale.

"House!" Lisa knelt by his side and reached for his wrist. "He's got a pulse!" She reached up and opened his eyelids with her fingers. "Pupils are fine…No immediate injuries that I can see, but.." She gently patted his cheek. "House. House, wake up. Come on.."

Wilson crawled to House's other side. He stared at his friend's ashen face. "He's not waking up. We should get him to a room."

"We don't know if we can move him!"

"You want to just leave him here?!"

"How about neither?" A voice spoke up. They both glanced down. After the initial relief crossed their faces, Cuddy spoke up angrily.

"You idiot! What were you doing?!"

"Looking for Chase. I must've fallen."

Wilson peered at him. "You don't remember what happened?"

"Of course I do! I just said I fell." House glared at him. "Don't start assessing me like I'm a patient. I'm not. I am a doctor and I think I know when I'm okay." He started to stand, then almost fell. Wilson and Cuddy immediately caught him with hands on both of his shoulders. He looked slightly flustered. "Sorry." He mumbled.

Cuddy cocked an eyebrow at him. She shook her head, and then looked at Wilson, sending him an almost questioning look. He nodded slightly, and she started down the stairs. "If you guys don't need any help, I'm leaving. The police or whoever have probably been here for half an hour already." She hurried down the stairs and exited. House leaned against a wall. Wilson shook his head as well, and then motioned down the stairs. House nodded, and Wilson looked worriedly at him.

"Enough with the face! I'm fine!"

They both started down the stairs, Wilson staying behind House. They reached the bottom, and the latter pulled it open and stepped outside.

"I'll let you examine it."

Wilson turned, surprised, to his friend. "Oh... Okay. Well… We might as well do it now."

House nodded, and they started down the hall towards an exam room before being stopped by a serious-looking man in a gray suit with tidy white hair.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Yeah. Gregory House?"

Wilson frowned as House stepped out from behind him.

"That would be me. And who the heck are you?"

He flipped open a badge. "Special Agent Gibbs, N.C.I.S. I'm here investigating Dr. Chase's disappearance. Could you come with me, please?"

"Wait, doesn't the 'N' stand for '_naval_?" Chase isn't in the military."

Agent Gibbs sent him an odd look. "…. Dr. Chase was a Petty Officer in the U.S. army for two years."

* * * *

Chase struggled to straighten himself out. He'd been curled into a fetal position with his arms wrapped around his abdomen for what had to have been hours. He moaned, trying to stretch. The sheets that were thrown over him had now been kicked off. He slid off the side of the bed and a realization struck him as his feet hit the floor. His paralysis was gone. Could it have been a temporary thing—maybe because he was drugged? Or was it just a side effect of the meds he'd been on? In any case, it was gone.

He took a step forward, and nearly fell on the sink. Taking a deep breath, then grimacing, he stood and staggered to the door. Tentatively reaching out, he tried the handle and was surprised to feel it turning.

"Crap." He muttered, stepping backward.

The door flew open and Chase fell to his seat. A young teenager was shoved in, and the door slammed shut. He heard a click as the door was locked. Glancing at the form on the floor, his eyes grew wide and he abruptly stood up, clutching the end of the bed for support.

"I'm not who you think I am," came the soft voice.

"Yeah, right. You just happen to look exactly like my psychotic captor. Why are you in here? To torture me?"

The teen slowly rose up from the floor, but his gaze was still downcast, and when he spoke, his voice was laced with sadness. "Actually, I do. I'm his brother. And I don't think you're looking close enough."

He was right, Chase realized. He had slightly darker hair, a smoother face, and- Chase gasped. His irises were a pure, fiery red.

"I'm how Jake 'stayed' at the hospital while he was taking you."

"Stand up." Chase said, cocking his head. Jake's brother did so. "Holy crap!" He only came up to Chase's chest. "How did-."

"I wore stilts. Extensions. Whatever you want to call them. If I cut my hair, wear contacts, and deepen my voice a little, well…"

"Still… _No one_ ever even got suspicious?"

"He wasn't lying when he said no one gives him the time of day."

Chase wondered briefly how he'd known what Jake had said to Chase, but then, he thought, _he _is _his brother. He probably rants about it all the time._ Chase squinted at him. "So... what's your name? And how old are you?"

He hesitated. "Just.. Call me... Trever. And I'm fourteen."

Chase looked oddly at him, but nodded. "So if you were covering for him at the hospital, why'd he-." He broke off, wincing, and struggled to take a deep breath.

Trever's brow furrowed, and he turned to the sink, slipping a small key out of his pocket and unlocking a miniature drawer Chase hadn't even noticed before. When his hand emerged, it was clutching a small syringe.

Chase barely noticed him walk back over and slip the long needle into his skin. Then suddenly, the waves of pain began to recede like an ocean going into low tide. Slowly, he straightened up, taking a long breath.

"What did you give me? Morphine?"

Trever shook his head, looking down. "Honestly… Something I hoped wouldn't work."

"What?!"

Trever's eyes seemed to glow. "It was an antidote."

Chase looked at him as though he were crazy. He was beginning to grow dizzy. "An antidote for what?!"

"For the experimental virus Jake gave you."

With those words, Chase lost his grip on consciousness.

* * * *

Chapters are getting longer, yes... and hopefully better. I'm going up to seven today. I have more, but don't want to dump it all in and explode, you know? ;)


	6. Reactions

"Chase in the army?!" House almost laughed. "I think you've got your facts confused."

Agent Gibbs cocked any eyebrow, pulling a file out from under his arm and flipping a few pages in.

"Dr. Robert Chase, moved here from Australia before completing college. Enrolled in the army and served from 2004-2006 until being honorably discharged for receiving injury during battle in Iraq. Applied at Princeton Plainsboro Hospital in New Jersey at the end of '06 and was accepted. He is currently under the authority of Dr. Gregory House." He paused, looking up at House. "Are 'ya still sure we got our facts confused?" House said nothing, looking slightly shocked under his stony face. "Now will you come with me, please?"

House nodded, and Gibbs turned to walk away. Just then, a young man appeared around the corner. He had short, not quite spiked brown hair and mischievous eyes.

"Hey, boss. Abby's on the phone," he informed, holding out a small cell. Gibbs took it.

"Gibbs…. Yeah, Abby what've you got?... No, I thought you and Ducky were going to come here… We're at Princeton Plainsboro, Abs, not Holy Trinity.. Family, whatever.. Great. See you in a few." He hung up and turned to the two doctors waiting for him.

"Come on." House and Wilson started to follow, but Gibbs turned and held up a hand. "Dr. Wilson, if you'd kindly wait here."

Wilson stared at him for a moment, then cocked his head slightly. "I'm his official physician, I have a right to be with him.

House raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

"He _is _a doctor, I think he can take care of himself without his 'physician'." Gibbs retorted.

"You'd be surprised."

"It's against N.C.I.S. protocol."

"Well, it's against _my _protocol to leave him with people like you, and right now you are at Princeton Plainsboro Hospital, _not _your N.C.I.S. headquarters. Clear?"

Gibbs cocked an eyebrow. Both men stared at each other, locked in a standoff; both glaring and refusing to back down. Neither looked up on the other, but neither did they look down, for a gnarled sense of respect had begun to seep into both of the other. House and DiNozzo stood to the side, surveying in silence, both slightly surprised at their companion's behavior. Finally, Gibbs narrowed his eyes.

"Clear. But _stay_ _outside the room._"

Wilson nodded, and both gazes were averted.

"Assertive, Jimmy," House smiled. Wilson didn't reply, staring straight ahead. House frowned, but said no more.

Gibbs led them down the halls. Since this was a special occasion, they'd set up a makeshift 'interrogation room' in one of the glass-walled hospital rooms. There were two other N.C.I.S. agents waiting outside in the hall. They introduced themselves as S.A.'s Kate Todd and Timothy McGee. Gibbs continued on into the room, and House followed at a glance to Wilson. They entered and sat opposite one another, a table set between them in place of the usual hospital bed.

"So," Gibbs began.

"So," House repeated.

Gibbs dove right in. "What was your relationship with Dr. Chase?"

"I was his employer, he was my employee."

"Are you sure it didn't go any deeper than that?" House nodded, wrinkling his eyebrows. "So, it was just strictly business? You weren't even friends? _Just _co-workers?"

"No. I am his boss. And of course, we're friendly. Otherwise, the whole diagnostic 'team' thing wouldn't really work."

"Then maybe it did go deeper than strictly work. Just a little. Maybe a few drinks sometimes?..." House didn't reply, and Gibbs pressed further. "Maybe you got into a fight with him. Over a diagnosis. Or the way you treated him. Anything. But maybe you got angry with him. Said some things…"

"Are you accusing me of driving him away?" House asked quietly, his jaw tightening.

"I'm not accusing anyone of anything, simply exploring different pathways."

"I'm not an idiot."

"I'm perfectly aware of that."

"Right." The last comment was muttered under House's breath. "Chase was in a hospital bed, severely sick. Do you really think he'd choose that time to run away?"

"Maybe he wasn't really sick."

"Chase is no actor, believe me. And believe it or not, it's actually pretty hard to fake unconsciousness and convulsions."

"Well, then, maybe _you _were still mad."

"About what?! Sorry to burst your happy little bubble, but there was no 'big fight'. Even if there was, do you _really _think I'd _kidnap _him for it?!"

"Maybe it wasn't kidnapping."

* * * *

Wilson had been with the three other N.C.I.S. agents this whole time, growing more concerned by the minute. A flush had begun to grow on House's neck and cheeks and his hands were starting to curl into fists. Wilson didn't know what Gibbs was saying, but it was obviously starting to get under House's skin. Wilson started for the door, but Agent DiNozzo caught his arm.

"I'd advise against that."

Wilson shook him off. "Well, for your boss's sake, I wouldn't."

"Gibbs can take care of himself, believe me." The agent paused for a moment. "What do you see in Dr. House, anyway? He doesn't seem like much of a people person."

Wilson took a breath. "House is an arrogant jerk who cares for no one but himself and has no regard for people's emotions."

"Sounds like you'd get along great with him, Tony." Kate interjected. Tony sent her a sneer.

Wilson held up a hand. "But. He is in constant pain, needs someone even if he won't admit it, actually _does _have emotions, and… I'm his friend. His best---his only friend." He sighed. "He has feelings under that nearly impenetrable demeanor. It takes a lot, one way or the other, to break through. And right now, your boss is about to—and not in a good way." Despite the agent's further protests after a brief silence, he marched up to the transparent door and went through.

House had just abruptly stood, toppling his chair. His right hand gripped his cane like it was a life line, turning his knuckles a stark white. He'd shouted something as Wilson came in, but the only word the oncologist caught was 'murder'. Wilson briskly walked up and gently grabbed House's left elbow. The afore mentioned looked at him in surprise.

"Dr. Wilson, I thought I specifically asked you to stay _outside _of the room." Gibbs said through gritted teeth.

"Well, I think it's time for a break, don't you, Agent Gibbs?"

Reluctantly, still glaring, Gibbs nodded slowly, and Wilson turned and strode out of the room with House. He'd been startled to find the diagnostician trembling under his hand. They entered the hallway and passed the other agents, who looked impressed. Suddenly, House's leg buckled underneath him, and the expression turned to concern.

"Are you okay?" McGee asked, brow furrowed.

House nodded, struggling back to his feet and grimacing. He kept walking. With a glance back at McGee, Todd, and DiNozzo, Wilson followed, sighing.

* * * *

House trudged to his office and immediately sat in his desk chair, rubbing his right thigh. His hands were shaking, and he now looked pale. Wilson sat across from him and crossed his legs, gazing worriedly at his friend. After a long silence, he finally spoke up.

"What did he say to you?"

"Usual interrogation crap. Where were you when the crime was committed, did you hate the victim, were your families feuding, yada yada yada."

Wilson let out a breath. "House. Yeah, right. You never get that worked up. What happened?"

House hesitated for a moment, then relented, refusing to meet Wilson's piercing gaze. "He accused me first of driving Chase away, then kidnapping him, then murdering him."

"Of all the ridiculous th-."

He was cut off by a curse from House, who'd leaned over his leg, muscles stiff.

"Good Lord, House." Wilson paused, waiting for House to straighten up. "Come on."

"If you couldn't tell, I'm in no mood for walking right now."

"You will be if you follow me. Now come on."

Reluctantly, House stood shakily, and followed Wilson out the door and down the hall. The latter strode through the corridors and finally up to the pharmacy counter. He'd filled out a slip before, and now handed it, along with House's empty pill bottle, to the young man sitting at the counter. He glanced at it, almost imperceptibly rolled his eyes, and handed them back.

"I'm sorry, I can't take this."

"Why not?"

"Because Dr. House just got a refill five days ago."

"Well he needs another one."

"I apologize, Dr. Wilson. But I'm afraid I just can't take this."

"Look, I'm his doctor, and I say he can. So will you just give it to me?"

"I can't. I do not have that authority. You will have to-."

He stopped talking at a thud coming from behind Wilson.

"Oh, crap." He muttered.

He turned to find House sprawled on the ground for the second time that day, deathly pale and unconscious.

* * * *

Chase awoke to find boiling red eyes full of concern boring into his own. He groaned, still lying on the floor. Trever looked apologetically at him.

"Sorry, but I couldn't really move you onto the bed…" He confessed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah. It's alright." Chase struggled to sit up, wincing. Trever hurried to assist him. "Thanks."

"Yeah. So…" He cleared his throat. "How are you feeling?"

".. Other than being sore, tired, sick, and so on.. fine. Why? Should I be feeling something else?"

"Well, like I said, the virus Jake's created is experimental, so it only makes sense that the antidote is, too. It may have side effects, and there's always the chance of allergies. Plus the fact that you have to take at least two more doses and we only have a very limited supply here. I don't know how your body will take it if you don't get another 8cc's within three hours. It's designed so everyone will react differently, depending on their bodies certain stats.. and stuff." He sighed. "It's really too bad. Jake would be a genius if he wasn't so insane."

Chase peered at Trever. There was a certain sad aura about him, like he'd seen thrice the tragedies and disappointments in his short fourteen years than most men would see in a lifetime.

"I see." Chase said, looking thoughtful and somewhat dazed. "I wonder what's going on back at the hospital." He mused suddenly.

"I'm sure that they're doing everything in their power to assure your safe return…" Trever spoke up, not really sure what to say.

"Yeah. I just wonder…" Chase trailed off, not wanting to voice his concerns. What he really wondered was how everyone felt. Did they really miss him? Were they worried? Or were they just going about their lives, blissfully ignoring the fact that he'd gone missing? Old insecurities began to pile up in the back of his mind, and he struggled to push them away, trying to assure himself that sure, they were worried. Of course they were trying to get him back.

Although, he couldn't help but assess the hopelessness of the situation. No one knew what had happened. The person who'd actually taken him had the perfect alibi. He didn't even know where he was. He tried to distract himself by dreaming up everyone's reactions to his sudden vanishing act. Foreman was easiest, he probably didn't really care. Sure, he'd be concerned, but certainly wouldn't be a mess. He'd most likely go on with his work, pushing the unfortunate facts out of his mind. Allison would be frantic, of course. She was the one that'd probably dissolve in tears when she found out.

Cuddy, he wasn't quite certain. He knew she'd be anxious, but she did have a whole hospital to run. Wilson would surely check up on the progress of the police or whoever was investigating his disappearance constantly, and update everyone. That would be his method for coping.

House-now House was the one Chase wasn't sure about. He might be concerned, somewhere in his mind, but Chase had no idea how he'd show it- or, rather, not show it. How troubled would he actually be? Would the situation affect him? Or would he just keep being normal old House, not letting anything get through, burying his emotions in his abrasive cover?

Suddenly the door opened. Jake strode in, a smug look on his abnormally young but fierce-looking face.

"Good evening, Dr. Chase."

Oddly enough, the first thought that entered Chase's mind was about the time. He'd said good evening. Was it actually late? Or was Jake just being general? There was no clock in the room.

"I'm sure you're dying with curiosity by now to know how we're going to use you. Well, not to fret, you'll find out soon enough. Oh, and-you'll have company soon. So, don't get too lonely." He grinned and exited just as quickly as he'd come.

"Company? What did he mean by that? Is he going to kidnap someone else?" Chase glanced over at Trever. "And what about you? I'm not alone, doesn't he know you're in here? He's the one that threw you in here with me, isn't he?"

Trever just shrugged. Chase sighed heavily, the strain of the past day-had it seriously been that morning he'd collapsed in Cuddy's office?; he wasn't really sure-catching up to him. Even though it seemed as though all he'd been doing this day had been sleeping, he allowed his heavy lids to close and gently slipped into welcome sleep.

* * * *


	7. Taken and Reunited

"House…. House….."

The diagnostician woke to two blurry images hovering over him. As soon as he opened his eyes, a wave of pain hit him so hard he had to fight not to black out again. He clenched his jaw and grabbed his right thigh.

"House! Thank God. Are you alright?"

"Does it look like I'm alright, Jimmy?" Came the rasped reply as the figures above him slowly began to come into focus.

"I'm admitting you."

As soon as he heard the other voice, House groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Aah, Wilson, why'd you have to go and get _her?_"

"I didn't. The pharmacist did."

"Moron."

Cuddy mimicked House's movement, her blue orbs rolling in their sockets.

"You've collapsed twice in _one day, _House. I'm getting you a room."

Wilson took House's arm, starting to help him up. Just then, House grew dizzy, and his vision blurred. He swooned. Wilson's grip tightened.

"House?"

He didn't answer. Suddenly Cuddy gasped. She started to cry something but was cut off, and a moment later something hit the floor. Wilson cussed, and House started. Oh, crap. If Wilson was swearing, something _bad _was happening. Someone roughly jerked House the rest of the way to his feet, and his leg screamed in protest. There were the sounds of a brief struggle, and someone shouted something. It was followed by a sickening smack, and then dead silence.

House desperately wished he could see what had just happened, but his eyes still weren't co-operating, and the dizziness had gotten worse. What had happened to Wilson and Cuddy? The person holding him shifted, dragging House backward. He tried to speak up, to ask what was going on, but it came out slurred and unintelligible. A chuckle came from somewhere in front of House.

"Confused, Doctor? You have every right to be."

House's eyes grew wide. He knew that voice.

Another chuckle, followed by a dementedly contented sigh. "In two minutes, you will be completely immobile, but still fully able to comprehend everything going on around you. It's the perfect drug for any capture. You probably want to know where you're going, yes? Well, I'll tell you. It's somewhat of another hospital, just like this one. Only, my hospital is committed to experimenting for the good of mankind. You and your friends have had the luck to be my patients. Just wait until we get there. I'm sure you're very apprehensive right now, but.. Once we do get there, things will sort out. You just wait." And with that, House sagged in the arms of his current captor, the drug fully taking effect.

He was literally dragged outside and roughly shoved into a cramped space. His leg felt as though it were being sawed off. He wanted to cry out, but couldn't speak. He couldn't move to rub it, and the position he was in wasn't helping his discomfort a bit. Something was thrown into the van-he'd figured out what it was by now-onto the seat in front of him, and seconds later, they peeled out of the parking lot, heading for God knows where. House wondered how on earth the N.C.I.S. agents hadn't noticed the commotion.

After about half an hour, the van finally stopped. House had regained some feeling in his limbs, and had tried to move to a more comfortable position. He'd succeeded, but only in shifting so his weight was no longer distributed on his bad leg. Then the back doors of the van were opened, revealing two menacing figures. They chuckled before pulling House out of the small space. He grunted. His eyesight had cleared, allowing him to see where he was. There wasn't much to go on, though.

It seemed they had driven to nowhere. All that was in the small two-acre property was a large rectangular building and a makeshift parking lot, which was just a cleared-out square of dirt that could hold maybe ten cars. If this was Jake's 'hospital', it was a joke. It was only two stories and could hardly be ten rooms across. _He seems to favor the number ten, _House mused absently. The two men drug him inside and deposited him in a blank, ten-by-ten room, the only furnishings being a tiny bed and a sink, along with a miniature counter in the lower right corner.

Suddenly someone else was shoved into the room. They fell to the ground, limp as a velvet scarf. House recognized them immediately.

"Wilson!" He crawled over to his friend, still slightly dazed from whatever drug Jake had given him. He briefly mused how it had been administered, but stored the thought for later.

The form on the floor groaned, rolling over. House winced at a large, swollen bruise on Wilson's right temple. He reached out and gently shook his friend's shoulder. Wilson groaned again, but didn't wake.

"Jimmy." House urged. "Come on. Get up, you lazy bum." He shook again, a little harder this time.

Wilson's eyes finally fluttered open. He winced, gingerly fingering the bruise on his forehead.

"Wha-?"

House smirked. "I'm afraid a demented teenager has brought us to his hospital to conduct evil experiments on us."

Wilson blinked at him, a completely blank look on his face. House rolled his eyes.

"Point being, we were mugged and taken to somewhere out in the middle of nowhere. Our captor is an intern who needs attention. On the bright side, this might be where Chase is."

Wilson shook his head. "Are you serious?"

"Totally and completely."

"We're so dead."

* * * *

Agent Gibbs rounded a corner, his hands balled into fists, his face red. Where the heck had those two gone?! Not only had Dr. Wilson interrupted an interrogation and taken away the suspect, he seemed to have no intention of bringing him back. But his anger drained as he saw a form lying in the middle of the hospital floor, dressed in a form-fitting silk red business suit. He recognized the body at once. Dr. Cuddy, DA of the hospital.

Gibbs rushed forward. "DiNozzo!" He shouted. "Over here!"

Agent DiNozzo rushed forward. "Yeah, boss."

"I think we may have a problem."

* * * *

Chase woke abruptly at the sound of a door slamming. He jerked forward, startled, surprising Trever, who jumped, and in turn, hit his head on the door handle, as he'd been sitting right beneath it. He winced and rubbed the top of his head.

"Sorry." Chase apologized. Trever smiled in reply. "That wasn't our door... What's going on?" Trever just shrugged. Chase sighed.

Suddenly door handle turned, and Trever started, hopping away from the door. Jake walked in.

"Morning, Dr. Chase."

Morning? He'd slept all night?

"It's time for you to meet the other patients and start your treatment." Jake grinned maliciously. "I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."

He turned and walked out the door, leaving it open and obviously expecting Chase to follow. The doctor turned to Trever, puzzled and cautious, but the boy nodded, looking almost sad, and Chase, still baffled, turned to trail the receding figure down a long corridor. They took at least seven turns-Chase stopped keeping track after a while-and finally arrived at what looked like a normal hospital lobby. _That's a little odd. _

Jake grinned broadly at the sound of approaching footsteps. Chase started, listening closely. No way. Was that-a cane? Sure enough, the telltale tapping drew closer, confirming Chase's thoughts. He forced himself not to get his hopes up. What on earth would House be doing here? And even if he was, for some odd reason, he wouldn't be much help to Chase if he was a prisoner as well.

But Chase couldn't keep the strong emotions of almost joyful shock away when he saw the faces of House and Wilson. Of course, he felt despair, as well, because they obviously weren't just visitors. But a small part of him rejoiced because he was no longer without someone he knew and cared for.

The trio was speechless for a moment, but not really out of surprise. More of just not knowing what to say. Then Wilson stepped forward and put an arm around Chase.

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah... yeah, I'm fine." Chase had almost forgotten the condition he was in when he'd been taken. "It's just—never mind. I'll tell you later. How did you guys get here?!"

House answered him. "Sorta like you… only we weren't so sick. What the heck is this place?"

Before he could answer, Jake told them all to sit. They did so, placing themselves in the normal cushioned lobby chairs, all three baffled as to what was going on.

"Good morning, gentlemen." Jake began. "Welcome to day one of your treatments. First of all I must thank you in advance for being part of such a revolutionary study. This will benefit the world. You have no idea how you're going to change history as we know it."

All three men stared at him, nearly awestruck. What was this loony talking about? He read the looks on their faces.

"Not to worry, you'll soon understand. First things first. I must introduce you three to your resident doctors." Three different people dressed in white lab coats emerged from a hallway behind Jake. He motioned to the first one. "This is Dr. Winslet. She has a full PhD. under her belt buckle, and specializes in Psychology." He moved to the next. "Dr. Cambert, M.D. Our resident specialist of Neurology. And last but not least…. Dr. Mestic. He's decided to choose… muscle regeneration as his… major calling. And now-a demonstration of just some of the work we've already been achieving."

Jake stepped aside, revealing a trembling young man in crème colored clothing. He was pale and scrawny, and his eyes were wide.

"This is Mr. Marco Sandrawnes. He has so generously volunteered to be a test subject for one off our newest drugs. We like to call it our 'pale darkness' drug. You see, it spreads a neurotoxin throughout the system in minutes, causing convulsions and panic. We plan to sell it to the U.S. military. That is… as long as they can keep up with the black market prices…."

The three onlookers gaped as Dr. Cambert walked up and inserted a syringe into Mr. Sandrawnes' arm. He tried to pull away, but the doctor was stronger than his skinny physique suggested. He held the man's arm in a vise grip, holding him forcibly in place as he emptied the 'pale darkness' into his arm. Then he backed away.

Sandrawnes immediately jerked backwards and dropped to his knees. Soon afterward, a wild look crossed his face. He clawed at it and screamed, his left arm beginning to twitch. He backed up to the wall, raising his hands in a defensive posture as if fending off some invisible demon. He screamed again; a sickeningly shrill sound. Jake and his "doctors" stood back, looking on with indifference. House, Chase, and Wilson stared in shock, horrified and disgusted.

Sandrawnes collapsed to the ground, writhing and still shrieking. Suddenly he began to seize violently. His screams diminished as his body thrashed, nothing holding him down. Just as quickly as it had started, Marco Sandrawnes lay still. At a motion from Jake, two guards appeared seemingly out of nowhere and carted the prone form away. Wilson found his voice first.

"Did you kill him?"

"Of course! What use would it be if we didn't?" Jake replied, grinning idiotically as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "To just incapacitate enemies is never enough. They'll just come after you again after they recover." He turned to his doctors. "I think it's time we begin."

"Begin what, exactly?" House inquired from his seat.

Jake turned back to them, looking stupidly giddy. "Why, your treatments, of course."

* * * *

MmmHmmm... That happened quicker than I thought it would. Getting to the quote in the summary, that is. Let me know how you're liking it. And just as a side note, if there are any other TV shows that might peak your interest, tell me what they are. If I watch them, I could consider writing a fic. Just something I thought I'd mention. Peace.


	8. Any Clues?

Agent Anthony, or Tony, DiNozzo was baffled. He could find nothing to suggest any kidnapping of any kind. There was nothing to suggest a crime-no evidence. No footsteps, fingerprints, blood, hair-at least from what he could tell. He had only done an initial search. But it looked pretty bleak. Gibbs had taped off the crime scene, and was talking to Dr. Cuddy.

"Hey, Boss!" DiNozzo yelled. Gibbs turned to him. "I didn't find anything. I'm gonna go find Kate and McGee." Gibbs nodded, and started talking to Dr. Cuddy again.

Tony pivoted and strode down a long corridor. He didn't have a radio, so he'd have to search for his fellow agents on foot. It was quite a job. The hospital was huge. He wondered what the cash flow for Plainsboro was. Obviously not too bad.

"McGee!" Tony called, spotting the figure of the agent just turning the corner in front of him. McGee turned and spotted Tony, who'd run over.

"Hey. Come with me. Have you seen Kate? There's been a kidnapping... we think."

"Another one?! Who?"

"Dr.'s House and Wilson. No idea what happened. Preliminary observation brought up nothing. We need equipment."

"Preliminary observation, Tony?"

"I checked it out right after we think it happened and didn't find anything. Now where's Kate?"

"Last I saw her she was talking to House's team."

"Where are they?"

"Diagnostics wing... I'll show you."

McGee led him down a few halls to a glass-enclosed room, where Kate stood talking to three other people, probably doctors. One African-American male, and a Caucasian; a woman. Tony grinned. McGee glared at him.

"Don't even think about it, Tony." He pushed open the door and walked straight up to Kate.

"Hey, guys." She said, then turned to introduce the others. "These are Dr.'s Allison Cameron and Eric Foreman."

McGee leaned over and whispered in her ear for a moment. Her face grew grim, and she faced the doctors she'd been talking to moments ago.

"I'll have to continue later, guys. Something's come up."

Allison frowned. "What's wrong? Has something happened?"

Kate glanced at Tony, uncertain. He stepped forward. "We… we think that there may have been a kidnapping."

Cameron gasped. "Another! Of who?" She asked worriedly.

This time Tony hesitated. "Possibly of Dr. House and Dr. Wilson."

Cameron grew pale and fell back in her seat. "Oh my…" Even Foreman frowned, his brow wrinkling.

Kate glanced sympathetically at them, then followed Tony and McGee out the door to Gibbs. He'd finished questioning Cuddy, and she'd retreated to her office, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Gibbs looked up when they walked over.

"Hey."

"Hi, Gibbs. So… what've we got?"

"Nothing. Dr. Cuddy said she was hit on the head from behind, and she didn't see anything until I woke her up. There is no evidence present, and the security cameras were turned off on this floor for that time. All we have is a very fuzzy tape of the 'getaway van', and we can't read the license plate. I can't get a hold of Abby or Ducky. I have no idea where they are. And to top it all off, we found a note."

The three agents had been listening attentively, and now they stepped forward, frowning. They each gasped as the note passed from hand to hand. It was trapped in a small evidence bag, but they were still careful handling it. It was typed, with nothing on it but the message. It read:

Greetings, N.C.I.S. agents.

Having any luck with your investigation yet?

I wouldn't assume so.

Just so you know, they are quite safe-for now.

Although, they could experience some—discomfort in time.

Not to worry, though.

It's for the good of science.

Found any evidence?

Didn't think so.

I do believe we've done a fabulous job of these 'kidnappings'.

And we're just scientists.

I did all the planning, though.

Hope I'm not causing _too _much chaos down there.

But you guys _did _earn it.

Sincerely,

AMCtW

It ended there. Kate blinked as she read the last line.

"AMCtW? What does that stand for?"

"No idea, Kate."

"American Men Caring to Wackos?" Tony guessed.

Kate smirked at him.

"People! Come on!" Gibbs barked. "We have an urgent kidnapping case to solve here."

"Yeah. No evidence, no witnesses, no forensics… what a case."

"Has that ever stopped us before?"

* * * *


	9. Winslet

"Dr. Wilson."

"Yes?"

"You will go with Dr. Cambert." One of the 'doctors' standing off to the left of Jake stepped forward. Wilson didn't move.

"Please don't make this complicated."

"I'm not going anywhere with this quack."

Jake sighed witheringly. He shifted slightly, and two different guards again slipped out of thin air and walked to Wilson. Jake had to give credit to the oncologist for barely even blinking, but he was becoming agitated. This man was stalling the progression of science, after all.

"One more time, Dr. Wilson. Please co-operate. I don't want to make this any harder than it has to be."

"Are you kidding me?! What are you planning on doing, anyway? Unless you tell me what's going on, I'm not moving."

Jake sighed again, not answering. With an almost sad look, he turned to the guards and nodded. They each took one of Wilson's arms, heaving him out of the chair he'd been seated in. He pulled back, trying to tug his arms out of their vise grip. But it was useless. They were much stronger than him. Suddenly he lashed out, kicking one of them hard on the shin. His grip loosened just enough for Wilson to be able to pull an arm out. He pulled it back to swing at the other man, but the guard who'd released him had pulled something out, and now he jabbed it into Wilson's side. With an anguished cry, the doctor crumpled almost to his knees before being forcibly dragged back up to his feet and down a hall, followed briskly by Dr. Cambert.

Jake turned to the two shocked seated men, all but giggling with excitement.

"What did they do to him?" Chase finally demanded.

"Oh, don't worry about him. They simply incapacitated him so he would be safe for his transport to the room where his treatment is."

"What freaking treatment?! We aren't sick!" Chase cried. Jake stayed quiet, grinding his teeth for a moment. But he soon returned to his over zealous demeanor.

"Dr. House is, naturally, going with Dr. Mestic."

House stood, unsure what to do. He wasn't able to move much, let alone fight back. His leg was nearly killing him. Mestic stepped forward. He grinned without any happiness.

"Evening, Dr. House. How are you feeling?"

House didn't reply. He clenched his jaw, eyes darting between Mestic and Chase. It was the first time the younger doctor had seen real uncertainty and-fear?-in his boss's hard blue irises.

"Let's go, shall we?" He sounded pleasant enough on the surface, but underneath the façade was malice, a bit like someone about to slice a knife into their enemies' heart.

House closed his eyes. He followed him.

"Aah, Chase. Our youngest patient."

"I'm not. A patient." Chase stood, daring Jake to make a move. What was this crazy planning on doing?

"I think it's fitting that you go with Dr. Winslet."

Chase balled his fists. Jake saw.

"I wouldn't suggest trying anything, Mr. Robert. Remember Dr. Wilson." He smiled broadly, teeth so perfect they looked like polished plastic.

Chase was seeing red, but he knew if he did try something, he'd be detained. There was obviously some crazy security, and they'd tackle him before he got within two feet. Dr. Mestic took Chase's left arm.

"Please, Mr. Chase. This way."

She gestured down a long corridor, brightly lit with fluorescent lights. It was a typical hospital hallway. Chase jerked his arm roughly away, glaring at the impersonator. Or maybe she was a real doctor, tricked, paid, or somehow convinced into doing this mad project. But he followed, trying hard to contain his emotions.

They traveled down the corridor and turned left, stepping into a large, dark room about three doors down the hall. There was some kind of chair in the middle, almost like at a dentist. Mestic gestured for Chase to sit, and, reluctantly, he did. He immediately regretted it. Metal clasps clamped down onto his wrists and ankles as soon as he had distributed all his weight on the cold, steel seat.

"Don't worry, Mr. Chase, they are merely precautionary measures."

"Yeah, right." Chase muttered darkly.

Winslet produced a syringe. It held around 4cc's of a milky white substance.

"This is, rather frankly, a truth serum. A bit like Sodium Pentothal, but much improved. Just a bit, and the patient will be unable to lie for at least twenty minutes. I know it sounds like something out of a science fiction novel, but believe me, your doubts will be erased as soon as you've tried it." She cut Chase's sleeve open with a small, sharp scalpel and inserted the needle into the latter's forearm. Chase tried to keep his muscles relaxed, but it wasn't easy. Winslet waited a few moments before stepping up to him.

"Now, Mr. Chase, let's start by getting to know you a little better. It's obvious by your accent that you are not native to this land. Why did you move from Australia?"

Chase squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip. Of course, she'd touched on the most tender subject in Chase's life on the first question. She smiled.

"Mr. Chase? Tough subject for you? Tell me about it."

"My dad." The reply came through gritted teeth."

"Oh? Why? What did he do to you?"

"Left." He was beginning to clench and un-clench his fists.

"Left? Left home? Left you? Your mom? Siblings?"

"I don't have any siblings."

"And your mom. He left her, too?"

"Yes."

"But surely it wasn't all bad, right? She loved you."

"She drank."

"Oh. Well. In moderation, though?" Chase felt like heaving at her sick, sardonically sweet tone.

"No."

"No. She was… an addict, then?"

"Yes."

"Oh, really? Surely, though, she still cared for you."

"… No." Chase was killing himself inside. He wanted to scream.

"Then… you cared for her. Worked? Paid the bills, maybe. Tell me about it. Is she still alive?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, talk to me about when she was. How old were you? When you first moved over?"

"Sixteen." He clenched his jaw.

"That's quite young. It must've been hard to come out here with a drunken mother. However did you get the tickets? Never mind. How did your dad take it?"

"We never told him. He found out later."

"And… how did he react?"

Chase took a breath, struggling to control his emotions. "He called. And yelled."

"No details? And your mom? What did she do?"

"She shouted at me and went back to her room."

"To drink more."

"Yes."

"That must've been terribly hard."

"…Yes."

"Where were you housed, then?"

"An apartment."

"Where did you get the money?"

"Work."

"You worked?"

"Yes."

"Is your dad still alive?"

"No."

"Oh. Terribly sorry."

"Yeah. That's why you're smiling."

"How did he die?"

"Lung cancer."

"You're a doctor. Couldn't you fix it?"

_Couldn't you fix it? _That was a question Chase had asked himself many times. He knew it wasn't his area, and even if it was, he had no idea his dad was even sick. It's not like it was treatable even if he did know. _But you should've known…_

"Mr. Chase?..."

"That is not my specialty."

"I see. What's your relationship with Dr.'s House and Wilson?" She asked suddenly.

"They're my friends."

"Right. That's it?"

"I would say so."

Winslet frowned. Then she raised an eyebrow.

"Would you like to see how they're doing?"

* * * *


	10. Tricks

The fog in Wilson's mind slowly lifted, and he blinked, looking up. He was in a normal exam room, it looked like, and Dr. Cambert was standing over him, a menacing gleam in his eyes.

"Good morning, Dr. Wilson. How are you?"

Wilson glared at him. It was then that he realized there were restraints holding his wrists and ankles. He strained at them.

"What the heck?!"

"Calm down, Doctor." He said the last word with a sneer. "Hungry? I have something for you." He pulled out a small baggy with three pills in it. A cup of water rested on the counter behind him.

"Do you expect me to take those?"  
"You will take them or I will force you to take them. You have to admit, I have the advantage here."

Wilson glanced down at his restraints. "How do you expect me to take them?"

"I will unlock you. But I'm warning you not to try anything. It's useless. Now, please…"

Wilson waited as the pressure on his wrists lessened. Dang. He'd forgotten that his ankles were trapped as well. Dr. Cambert handed him the pills and water.

"What do they do?"

"What's my specialty, my dear Doctor?"

"Neurology?"

"Yes. These are called Mens rememdium, which appropriately translates into 'mind remedy'."

"What for? I don't have any mind problems."

"You may find your senses are keener after this. Of course, since nearly all these drugs are experimental, you may find there is a possibility of allergies, unknown side effects, and, well… stuff like that."

"Haven't you tested it?"

"My dear Wilson, these are our tests. Now take them. Please don't make this unsavory. You know what happened back there when you defied Dr. J. So please, just take them."

"Dr. J?"

"The genius behind this whole amazing plan."

"You mean Jake?!"

"You will not speak that shameful name! He is referred to as Dr. J here. Now, if you don't mind…"

Reluctantly, knowing he couldn't do anything, Wilson swallowed the pills. How much damage could they do, really? His question was soon answered. A hot pain spread through his skull almost immediately after he'd swallowed.

"What-?" He gasped. "Am I supposed to be feeling this?" He gritted, closing his eyes.

"Don't ask me. I only know it works. Why do you think we're doing these tests, Dr.? This is to figure out the symptoms and risks, and how to improve them. Don't worry. It'll all be worth it by the time we're done here."

"Sure it will." Wilson hissed. Quite suddenly he'd grown disoriented. Dr. Cambert's face looked purple and his coat seemed quite green. Wilson blinked a couple times, but it didn't help much. He looked down at his hands, which were now a bright orange-ish hue.

"I don't think this is supposed to be happening..." He didn't even know if he'd said it aloud. The room had begun to spin around him, and he grew nauseous.

"I'd rather like to take an MRI, Mr. Wilson. Think you can get there?"

Wilson shook his head, but either he didn't actually do it or Cambert didn't care because he unlocked the restraints and grabbed Wilson's arm, pulling him out of the seat. He stumbled forward, catching himself on the door jamb. Or, at least, he thought it was the door jamb. He couldn't be sure.

"Come along. It's this way." Cambert walked ahead of Wilson, tapping briskly down the hall in highly-polished leather shoes.

Wilson staggered along behind, not really knowing what was going on. They reached a dark room and went in, and Cambert directed Wilson to lie down on a white bed. He did so, and the other doctor left only to re-appear in another room with a large window. The bed Wilson was on had begun to move, depositing him into a loud dark tube.

Wilson, in his state of near delusion, didn't know what it was; only that it was dark and there were lots of whirrings and strange lights. His right hand shook, and his breathing turned shallow. Dr. Cambert had directed him not to move. He didn't know if he should obey him, but even if he wanted to, his brain just couldn't get the order to his muscles towork. Soon, the bed moved back out of the tunnel again, and he relaxed. Dr. Cambert came back out of the other room, some strange, film-like paper in his hand that looked odd colors-of course, Wilson didn't know if it actually was funny colors or if that was just his vision being weird.

Dr. Cambert told him to stand up, and he did, only to nearly collapse again. Cambert didn't even notice, having started into the hall again. Wilson attempted to follow him, stumbling blinding through the corridors back to his room, where he willingly fell into the bed there. Cambert glanced at him bemusedly.

"Feeling a little odd, Dr. Wilson? I would think so. This has had a very… strange effect on your brain. I imagine you must be confused right now. Your functions may have been reduced by a few years… But not to worry. If you can even understand me. When you regain awareness, you'll be better than ever." He chuckled. "You'll be a new and improved Wilson… A regular superhero."

* * * *

"Well, Mr. House, I'm sure you can imagine what we'll be doing today." Dr. Mestic chuckled. "If you were listening to Dr. J, surely you heard my specialty."

House snorted. "Dr. J? Who the heck is that?"

"Dr. J is our resident genius."

"You mean that stupid little Jake intern who thinks he's going to change the world by using us as rodents?"

"How dare you defile his name like that?! In this place, he will be referred to as Dr. J."

"Right. Jake." Mestic glared harshly at him from his stance almost four inches lower than House. "Has anyone ever told you that you sound like a squeaky toy? And you should think about getting a toupee."

"I'm going to really enjoy this." Mestic muttered.

"Sure. You do that. Is there a Coke machine anywhere around here? 'Cause I could really go for one right now."

Mestic ignored him, continuing on. He turned into an oddly-shaped room, fashioned almost like a rounded L. There was a starched white exam bed in the middle with a small scanner atop it that House had never seen before. He cocked his head.

"What the heck is that thing?"

"It's an improved CT scanner, portable and with clearer images. Just one of our unique, ingenious innovations used here, courtesy of Dr. J."

House rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but be a little impressed. It was too bad. That Jake kid sounded pretty smart for being stupid. He sighed.

"So what exactly are we doing here?" He questioned.

"You'll see. Lie down, please."

House did so, shrugging. At least it would give his leg a break. He shifted uncomfortably to the side as Dr. Mestic positioned the scanner exactly over his right thigh.

"Will you please hold still, Mr. House."

"I'd rather not. See, I'm a little restless…"

Mestic glanced down at him, annoyed. He messed with a few buttons on the side of the scanner. It began to glow.

"If this is a CT, aren't you a little worried about getting … radiated?" House inquired skeptically.

Cambert stepped back, grinning devilishly. "Oh, no. I'm sure I'll be fine."

House had begun to grow uneasy a while ago, and now he tried to shift and move his legs to get off the bed, but he couldn't move.

"What's going on?! He demanded.

"Calm down, Dr. House. It will make the process _so _much easier for all included."

"What the heck are you doing?!"

"Quiet, now. You _are _in a hospital. Wouldn't want to upset the patients..."

House would have said more, but at that moment, a sharp, hot pain had shot through his thigh. He reached for it, eternally grateful that he could move his arms, and gritted his teeth. Dr. Cambert was watching, looking slightly bemused. The glow coming from the 'CT' scan had brightened, its light harsh and unforgiving. The pain in House's leg increased, and sweat began seeping from his brow. He rubbed at his thigh almost fervently but cautiously, vaguely wondering why the beam wasn't affecting anywhere else, but not really caring at the moment.

"I'd suggest you not move so much, Dr. House. It will increase the length of the process."

House glared at him, and tried once again to get off the bed. But the movement sent a spiraling shot of agony through him. He struggled not to cry out, feeling like his leg had snapped in two. He moaned, doubling over it, thinking maybe he could block the beam. Dr. Cambert chuckled. The edges of House's vision had started to darken and blur, his body threatening to give out. House uttered a few words. He wasn't even sure what they were, but the expression on Cambert's face told him it definitely wasn't a compliment. The man marched over and touched something on the machine now hovering over House's head. He felt it grow almost hot, and the pain shot through the roof. He chuckled, just managing to lie back before the ocean of unconsciousness drowned him.

* * * *


	11. Confusion

"You're a monster." Chase gritted, furious.

"Why, thank you!"

Winslet had produced small video screens, giving Chase a too-clear view of what was going on in other parts of the hospital. He'd seen Mestic administer some drug to Wilson, then watched helplessly as he was dragged through the hospital and into an MRI, only to hardly make it back to the room he was now lying in, delusional and alone.

House had followed Cambert into a large room with some sharp, vile-looking contraption mounted above a bed he'd been told to lay in while Cambert had turned the thing on. All Chase could tell was that it caused excruciating pain. He'd looked away as his employer passed out from the agony it had created.

This whole time, Winslet had stood to the side of him, watching his face, his expressions, his body posture, everything about him, seeing his reactions to his colleague's situations. She'd kept her own demeanor blank and motionless, examining this innocent and young but brilliant doctor. But then, after a moment, she smiled slyly and stepped towards him, silently unlocking his bonds. She dragged a gentle hand across his shoulder, and Chase pulled away, realizing the clasps had been released. But what he didn't notice was only his wrists were free. As soon as he tried to stand and step away, he nearly fell and broke an ankle.

"Careful, Doctor… wouldn't want to hurt yourself. I might have to… fix it."

Chases turned sharply towards her, baffled and slightly disgusted. What had gotten into her? Suddenly she'd just started…. Was she trying to seduce him?

Winslet stepped closer and leaned in, whispering in his ear. "You know, we don't have to do this. I can stop it. We can forget the whole ordeal and… have some fun."

Chase's eyes grew wide. She _was! _What was wrong with her?

She scooted closer, sliding a leg over his lap. "Come on… Robert. Don't you want to… relax a little?"

Chase couldn't speak. He was too confused. Was this the same person? Had she taken crack while he wasn't looking? Finally, he voiced his thoughts.

"What are you _doing?_"

Winslet sighed, tears brimming in her flat brown eyes. "I-I don't want to work here. You've gotta believe me. I was forced into it. They... He... Please, Dr. Chase…. You have to help me. I'm sorry. So sorry. Please…" She had started to sob. Chase's head was spinning. "I'm... so… sorry." Her chest was heaving, and she'd straddled his lap, but was leaning back, covering her small face with smooth hands.

Finally, Chase gathered his thoughts and spoke up again, starting to form a rough plan in his mind. He cleared his throat, and Winslet looked up. "Hey… calm down."

She sniffed, interest beginning to spark in her eyes. "I'll- try. It's just.. I can't believe what I've been doing…" Fresh tears sparkled in her eyes.

"Shhh… It's okay. Just … if you can unlock my ankles, then I can get you out of here."

Winslet too slowly slid off his lap, purposely running her hand along his left thigh in the process. He forced himself not to shudder. She walked over to a small console and fiddled with it for a moment. The grip on Chase's ankles loosened, and he stood dizzily, stretching. Winslet strolled back over, hands hiding meekly behind her back. Chase, shoving all thoughts of what he was doing out of his mind, reached out and put a hand on her cheek.

"That's good. It's alright. Now… is the door locked? Do they have security cameras? And where do those guards come from?"'

She took a deep, shuddering breath. "No, it's not locked, yes they have cameras, and… Umm… I don't know... where the…. Guards… come from."

Chase nodded, stepping tentatively towards the door. Suddenly, there was a cold, stabbing pain in the joint of his right shoulder. He cried out and crumpled to the floor. The last thing he saw before slipping away was Winslet standing over him, syringe in her hand and a freakishly twisted expression on her face. She cackled and kicked him hard in the ribcage, and he collapsed completely to the floor. The fog in his mind swallowed him immediately.

* * * *

Someone cleared his throat behind the agents. "Evening, Jethro."

Gibbs turned around. Standing grimly on the tile floor was Dr. Mallard, M.E., a.k.a "Ducky"; Jimmy Palmer, assistant to Ducky; and next to him was Abby Sciuto, Forensics Scientist. She was looking around with wide eyes.

"Took you long enough." Gibbs commented, but his eyes were shining.

"Yes, I am well aware of our delay. We couldn't seem to find the hospital, and when we stopped to ask for directions, it appeared that we were actually, well, nowhere near it."

"We were forty miles away." Abby interjected happily.

"Mm.. yes. It seems we took a few wrong turns along the way... Anyway, we decided it was too late to continue our journey, so we stayed the night at a pleasant hotel off the side of the road in a small town, and waited a while today to start here, since it seemed we had no reason to hurry. I do apologize if we've caused any inconvenience."

"No problem, Ducky. Thankfully, we've got no bodies, but we do need Abs."

Abby brightened. "I'm at your service, my silver-haired fox. Er- I mean, Gibbs." She grinned broadly.

"We have almost no evidence… But… We need to look for blood, fluids, and of course, fingerprints. What equipment do you have?"

Abby looked straight at him, defiant and happily challenging. She narrowed her eyes playfully. "Everything I need."

"Then get to work."

Abby practically skipped away to do as she'd been told. Gibbs smiled after her. She was unorthodox, but dang good. He turned to Ducky and Palmer.

"I guess you guys can come with me."

McGee, Tony, and Kate had all followed Abby.

"So, Abby…" Tony began. The scientist stopped abruptly and spun around, nearly causing a collision. "What are you planning on doing? Like, what are you going to do first? Do you need help?"

Abby twisted her mouth in a thoughtful expression. "Fingerprints. You guys can … well, you did search for evidence, right? Where are the bags?"

Tony reached inside his jacket and carefully removed the plastic bag holding the note that had been left for them inside of it. Abby took it, but didn't move, obviously expecting more. When none of the agents procured any, her face fell.

"This is all you have?!"

"Uhh... Yeah. These guys are pretty good."

Abby sighed, rolling her eyes, and turned back around. "No one's too good for us, Tony."

* * * *

Wilson blinked, struggling to get his thoughts in order. He looked around the small room he was lying in, squinting, trying to get his bearings. What was going on? The last thing he remembered was…. Was what? _Crap,_ he thought as he realized he had no idea where he was. He took a deep breath, composing himself. His name was James Wilson, he knew that much. He was an oncologist at Princeton Plainsboro Hospital in New Jersey. But this wasn't it-he was sure.

Wilson shook his head, getting his thoughts back on track. His best friend was a diagnostician name Gregory House… he _was _his friend, right? Yes. Of course. Why was he here? Was he at the dentist or something? Slowly, as his mind grew sharper, the realization dawned on him. Only his short-term memory was lost-at least, he hoped. He remembered everything up to when… when Chase had disappeared? Yeah… Everything after that was… fuzzy. There wasn't really a much better way to describe it.

Suddenly, the door to the room he was in banged open.

"Good evening, Mr. Wilson. I trust you're feeling better now?"

"Who the heck are you?" The man who'd entered was tall and skinny, with a receding hairline of gray and a matching pointy beard. _He looks like some kind of mad scientist, _Wilson mused absently.

The man looked taken aback for a moment, but quickly covered it, a sly grin sliding into place on his odd, not-quite-real features.

"You don't remember me? Why, I'm your doctor. I gave you your first treatment a while ago… Do you remember taking your pills?"

_Pills? What? Is there something wrong with me? _Wilson was beginning to worry. Just what had happened? And why couldn't he remember?

"What pills? What's wrong with me? Aren't I a doctor, why do I need you?"

"I'm Dr. Cambert. Ring any bells? No? Hmm… This is … interesting. Well, I came to check on you. It's almost time for your second dosage, but not yet. Anyway… How are you feeling? Other than the memory loss?"

Wilson hadn't thought about it until then, but he was actually feeling… amazing. All his senses felt sharp and keen, and he as a whole felt invigorated. He took a breath, inhaling cold, sterile air and feeling like he could conquer the world. His eyes were bright as he turned to Dr. Cambert.

"I feel… wow. What-what did you give me?"

Cambert smiled, but didn't reply. "So no confusion? Delirium? Dizziness, even?"

"Well, yeah, I'm confused because I can't remember anything. You still haven't told me… Where am I?"

"That's because you didn't ask. You are in a hospital, participating in a study."

"Of what?"

"Some… drugs. Medicine."

"Wait.. So… I'm like a guinea pig?" Wilson inquired worriedly, concern creeping back into his heart like a vile spider.

"Not to worry. It's all completely safe. And, well, you signed up. So no complaining."

_Signed up? Why would I do that? Well…. I guess I had a good reason… And if it's for the greater good…. Medicine studies are always good, right?... If this is some trick House is playing on me or something…._

"Well, I'll be back in a few minutes with your second treatment. Until then, I suspect you're hungry. The cafeteria is down this hall, to the left past two doors, to the left again, and at the end of the corridor you turn in to. Be back here by seven."

Wilson nodded, still a little confused, but feeling too good to notice. Since he was here, why not make the best of it? There was nothing else he could do, and besides, he really was starving. He headed to the cafeteria.

* * * *


	12. Breakdown

So this is a short one, but that's because it needed to be a chapter all it's own.

Arisprite-Wow! You're keeping up, and obviously like it! Thank you so much! (I usually like Chocolate better ;)  
* * * * *

House woke up slowly. He was hurting. That was all he could tell at first, and as he opened his eyes, he searched for the source. It wasn't hard to find. His right thigh was wrapped in tight bandages. He started picking at them, bits and pieces of what had happened coming back to him one at a time until a whole picture was formed. He sat up and glanced around. Dr. Mestic wasn't in sight.

House carefully unwrapped the bandages, wondering why they were there. They fell off and revealed nothing. He cocked his head and reached for his cane, then slid off the edge of the bed. His cane sounded unnaturally loud in the confined space as he limped to the door and opened it, wincing as each step brought an unwelcome stab of pain. The door swung open by way of his hand, and House stuck his head out, searching the corridor up and down. He could see no one.

More than a little confused, House exited the room he'd been in and walked down the hall. A short teen appeared around the corner, and House's eyes narrowed as he recognized him. The newcomer looked up, and brightened.

"Dr. House, hello. How are you feeling?"

House didn't answer, and Jake stopped a few feet in front of him. "That bad, huh? Listen, I'm sorry if your treatment was a little… uncomfortable…. But these things are necessary for the progression of medicine, yes? No pain, no gain, right?" The smile slowly faded from the young man's face as House still remained silent. He suddenly grew vicious. "Stay quiet, fool. But it's not going to help anything." He was snarling now, caught up in his demented visions of a twisted future. "Nothing can stop it now. We'll rise soon." House had no idea what he was talking about, and started to walk past him. Jake barely noticed, standing there alone, ranting about some take over. House ignored him.

He continued on, not knowing where he was going, and not really caring. He spotted a glint in the corner of his eye, and turned a corner, eyebrows raising at the sight before him. The doors to outside stood there, unguarded, beckoning him. Sweet, natural sunlight spilled into the building, vanquishing the meek rays of harsh, artificial fluorescent light that shone from the blank white ceiling. House staggered toward the doors, going faster than he had intended. Soon, he was there, and he reached a hand out and pushed. The door didn't budge. Something broke inside him then.

He hadn't realized how badly he'd wanted-needed-to get out of this clean, freakish hell he'd been placed in. He had to get away from the malicious smiles, the threatening needles, the sickening façade of sympathy and science. He couldn't take the knowledge of what was going on inside the walls of this palace under the rule of a psychopath. He couldn't bear to think of what his friends were going through, and was terrified of the realization that he would leave without them, if given the chance. He'd get help, he realized, but by the time he got back….

House collapsed to his knees, cane smacking against the glass of the doors. A string of desperate expletives crossed his lips, as if maybe he could offend the doors away. Slowly, he sank completely to the coarse carpet, and lie there, staring at the blank ceiling.

_If there's a God, he really hates us all, _House thought uselessly. In his broken state, he began to curse the very God he didn't believe in, blaming the deity on the whole thing. He's the one who left him and Wilson and Chase here. That God was the reason he was in so much pain. That God was why these freaking psychopaths were using them as human beakers. That God was why…. Why… he was so miserable….

Something struck House quite suddenly at that moment. Maybe… God was only the reason he was miserable … because he didn't know anything about him.

Ancient Sunday school lessons popped into House's mind unbidden. He sat up, frowning. A strange, foreign sensation had sunken into his chest. House didn't cry. But that's what this hospital of horrors had brought him to.

He didn't sob. He didn't wail. But he cried. Completely in a different persona, not feeling like he was real, feeling like a hologram, devoid of life and completely helpless, he let hot tears run down his cheeks silently, begging some unknown being to find him.

He quite suddenly found a very odd, unlike-House thought drifting through his mind.

_God help us all…  
_


	13. Two out of Three

"Chase…. Wake up….."

A strange, warped but soft voice floated into Chase's consciousness. He struggled to breathe, wrapped in memories of times past.

_His mother sat on a ratty old sofa, grimy beer bottle in hand. She turned to him and sneered._

"_Whaddya want, kid?"_

_"I-I'm home from school…"_

_"What? Don't you have work? What are you doing home?"_

"_Work isn't until four. I have half an hour. I-I need help with my homework…"_

"_And you expect me to help you?" She laughed, then coughed. "Get a life. Don't you have a girl or something you can cry to? Get outta here."_

"_But-I can't-."_

"_I said get out, Kid! I have friends coming over. Now leave. I don't care where you go."_

_Chase fought hard against the emotions rising in his chest. "No. Okay? I'm staying here. I don't care if you won't help me with my work, but I can't leave. I'll be in my room."_

_He turned to go, but she'd risen from the couch. Her eyes were filled with fury. "Did you just refuse me? I told you, I have people coming over, and you can't be here." She stepped toward him, eyes glazed. "Now leave!" It came out a shriek, and she threw her empty bottle at him. _

_Chase ducked, and it shattered against the wall behind him, showering him with pieces of thick, broken glass. He covered himself with his arms, but still cried out as the sharp, heavy pieces rained down on him, some piercing skin._

"_Shut up, Kid. The neighbors'll hear ya."_

_Chase's eyes overflowed, and he ran out the door, tripping over his own feet in the process. His mom's shrill cackles followed him as he sprinted out the shabby apartment building and down the road, wishing to everything he could have a different life…_

"Chase!"

Chase jerked awake, breathing hard. Trever frowned down at him.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah. Sorry…" Chase blew a breath out his lips. "Geez." He slowed his breathing before speaking again. "What happened to the crazy lady?" He asked, refusing to say her name at the moment.

"I-I don't know. They just dropped you in here. What-what happened?"

Trever asked, frowning, his soft, inhuman red eyes gazing at him. Chase peered at him. He-it almost seemed like… like he already knew… and was-.. sorry? But, no, that was impossible.

"She-um… She gave me some truth serum thing and interrogated me. I don't know."

"I'm … sorry."

"Well, don't be sorry. It wasn't your fault." Trever just nodded, staring at the carpet. Chase peered at him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

"Sorry."

They both looked at each other and chuckled. Chase leaned back against the wall, sighing. His relationship with Trever was an odd one. They'd hardly known each other, but Chase felt as though he'd been with him all his life. Weird. And-when he though about it-the bond between them was oddly strong. Chase glanced at the young man that had been quite literally thrust into his life. Trever seemed to know the in's and out's of Chase's life, even though they hadn't talked at all about it. It was a little creepy, but in a way, comforting.

"Where do you come from, Trever?" He asked suddenly.

A faraway look glazed over Trever's features, and he sighed. "Somewhere far from here."

"You don't have an accent, though, so it can't be too far, right?" Chase questioned, cocking his head. Trever just smiled gently.

"You'd be surprised."

"… Alright. Then… did you have a good home?"

This time the teenager hesitated for a moment. "… For part of my life."

"Did … did your parents die, or something?"

"No." Trever almost seemed to laugh gently at that one.

"Then… why only part of your life? How did you end up here?"

"You could say… someone placed me here."

Chase squinted at him, confused. Why such vague answers? Had it been terrible? Or—a horrible thought crossed Chase's mind for just a moment. What if Trever was somehow in on everything? Had he been sent here just to lull Chase into some false sense of companionship and security, only to have it torn away in moments? Trever seemed to sense Chase's chain of thoughts, and he looked at him with eyes that looked filled with a well of infinite sadness. Chase looked away, feeling regretful, a lump nearly forming in his throat.

"Don't worry. I won't betray you." Trever assured softly, almost matter-of-factly, as if it was no significant statement. And yet… it was. And Trever seemed to know it, yet he still laid a tone of casualness over the sentences, the only complete soberness in a subtle yet blatant underline.

"I know." The words came unbidden, and yet, Chase realized, he meant it. He knew suddenly with a fierce firmness that Trever was telling the absolute truth.

Trever smiled. Chase rose and stretched, starting when the door opened. With a sense of dread, Chase realized that Dr. Winslet had entered.

"Dr. Chase! Good evening! Look… I'm sorry about earlier, but… I got scared. I-I'll understand if you don't want to forgive me, but… Listen. I know where one of your friends is. If you follow me, I'll show you." She pivoted on her heel and turned without a sound.

Chase, with a puzzled glance to Trever, followed her. She tiptoed down a corridor, turning a few corners, and once, facing Chase and putting a finger to her lips as if to say, 'shhh'. Finally, she slowed. Chase noticed a soft light coming from around the turn ahead of them. He cocked his head. Winslet turned towards him and motioned for him to go ahead around the corner without her. A bit wary at first-what if it was a trap?- he stepped forward.

But nothing could have prepared him for what he saw as he turned left. The first thing was the doors to outside. He gazed over the small parking lot filled with three black sedans and a vintage green corvette. But that wasn't what caught his fascinated attention. It was the figure cowering in front of the doors. It took a moment for Chase to discern what he was seeing. Surely that wasn't House lying there-? But it was. _Is he unconscious?_ Was the next thing he wondered. But then he saw something he'd never seen before-and suspected he never would again. His employer seemed to be…. Crying.

Chase would've thought it completely impossible if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. But there it was-and Chase had no idea what to do with it. At first he just stood there, awestruck and frozen. If something was wrong, he shouldn't disturb him, right? But Chase quickly disregarded that thought. Of course he had to do something. Leaving him lying on the floor helpless would be stupid. So he shuffled tentatively forward.

House looked up as he heard the feet on the carpet. At first he almost thought it was Cambert coming for him, and his heart nearly stopped. He couldn't take another round of 'treatment'. Then he looked up to see a terrified Chase stepping slowly toward him. House's eyes grew slightly, and he struggled to sit up while discreetly drawing a sleeve across his brow and lids. Chase knelt next to him and wordlessly assisted him in standing. House sent a silent gratification to him that said more than words could have.

The two men walked as briskly as was possible to the end of the hall and Chase turned to Winslet. House backed up, nearly raising his cane, but Chase stopped him.

"No! Wait… She-she showed me here…"

House, looking baffled, lowered his hand. "Uhh… isn't she supposed to be a bad guy?"

"Well I thought so, but…." Chase took House's elbow and guided him a few steps away from Winslet. "She might be faking it, but she broke down in front of me, then showed me to you, so… I mean, if she turns on us, there's only one of her… and she _is _pretty small…"

Reluctantly, peering at the trembling figure over Chase's shoulder, House nodded. "Okay. We have to find Wilson and get out of here."

"I agree completely. But... let's go back to my room first. I kind of… left a friend there."

House squinted at him, but nodded again. "Okay. Let's go."

* * * *

Wilson glanced around, thinking how weird this was. He was in the cafeteria, but no one else was around. Dr. Cambert had given him his second dosage of whatever meds he was testing. A vague shadow of doubt still lurked in a dark corner of Wilson's mind about all this 'experimental procedure's and crap, like some silent specter desperately battling for control, but losing and slowly slipping away. Wilson dismissed it. Anyway, after the second treatment, he'd had a small headache and dizziness spells for a while, but other than that, a little more severe memory loss than before. After a brief chat with Dr. Cambert, he wasn't worried. He was certain his memories would be completely restored. And at least Wilson still knew the important things. Who he was, his profession, knowledge of vitals, like things he learned in school. The only things he'd forgotten were events. What had been going on in his life…. Since… Well, he wasn't quite sure. The things he did remember were from some type of school. Medical, maybe?

But in any case, he wasn't worried. As he'd mused, he was absolutely sure that the missing memories would come back. He found it strange how relaxed he was, but soothing. After he'd taken the pills for a second time, Dr. Cambert had told him to go back to the cafeteria. Wilson didn't know why, but had gone without complaint, figuring there was good reason.

Just then, there were footsteps behind him on the linoleum floor. He turned to see the very man he'd just been thinking of hurrying towards him.

"Hey." Wilson greeted.

"Evening, Dr. Wilson. Listen, it's little early, but I need you to take your next dosage. I'll explain later, okay?"

Wilson frowned, but nodded. "…Alright…"

Dr. Cambert managed a tight smile and handed over a cup of water and three pills.

"I thought I was only taking two."

Cambert cocked his head at him. "No… It was three. Must be your memory loss. Now go ahead."

Wilson raised an eyebrow at Dr. Cambert's hurried demeanor, but took the pills, even when a small part of his mind was warring with him not to. Immediately after swallowing, he wished he'd listened to it. An intense pain hit him full force, and he doubled over, gasping and holding a sweaty palm to his forehead.

"Wha-?"

Dr. Cambert frowned. "Dr. Wilson? Are you alright?"

Wilson tried to form a coherent reply, but couldn't. He could barely move, for pete's sake. It felt as though his brain were twisting into a coil and reforming. He slipped to the floor and curled into a fetal position, hardly able to hold on to a conscious thought. Tears began to leak from the corners of his eyes. He groaned, a desperate, quiet cry for help. Finally, after an eternity, it came. A silent wash of relief slipped over him, leaving him trembling on the tile. After a moment, he looked up. Dr. Cambert was gone.

* * * *

Oh, dear...


	14. Hide and Seek

"How are our oh-so-co-operative patients faring?" Jake turned around in a large swivel chair. "Brilliantly, I hope? Not that I can't see, but… I like reports from eyewitnesses." He was facing Dr. Cambert, who, after nodding politely at his superior, spoke.

"Well. I've given Dr. Wilson his final treatment. I'm afraid it caused some mild discomfort, as you probably viewed, but other than that, I believe he's fine. I'll have to talk to him soon to make sure his memories are… to our liking."

"Perfect." Silkily smooth, Jake's voice nearly sounded like the purr of a cat. He grinned. "And I must say, I think our dear House should get an Emmy for that performance of his earlier."

"Umm… sir?"

"Oh, nothing, doctor. Just… one of our patients had something of a breakdown. Quite amusing to watch, that."

"Aah. I see."

"Now hurry. You have to get to Dr. Wilson before the other two do."

"Yes, sir."

* * * *

House and Chase hurried up a hall, the latter about three feet ahead of the limping diagnostician, but no one was complaining. Their supposed new 'ally' had warned them of Dr. Cambert's ruthlessness. Wilson could be going through anything right now. Neither man hesitated to believe her. After Winslet had warned them, though, she'd taken off, saying something about not showing up somewhere being suspicious. They'd shrugged her off and quickly began following the instructions she'd given them to where she'd guessed Wilson would be. At the moment, though, they were heading somewhere else.

"So where exactly is your room?" House inquired, frustration stressing his words.

"Well.. I thought it was right here… but now I can't find it. I could've sworn it was the right way…"

House squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "We don't have time for this."

"I know." Chase halted a moment, conflict evident in his eyes. "Okay, here. You go find Wilson. As soon as I find what I'm looking for, I'll meet up with you, alright?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Hurry."

"You too." House took off.

Chase leaned against a doorframe for a moment, then turned and walked down a smaller hall that looked familiar. After trying every door in the corridor, Chase threw his hands up with a sigh of aggravation and slid down the wall until he was sitting with his forehead on his knees.

"Are you alright?"

Chase's head jerked up, and his eyes brightened. "Trever! Where have you been? I was looking for you…"

"Oh. Sorry. I was, umm… in the bathroom."

"Oh. Right."

"Well, anyway, come with me. We're finding Wilson and breaking out of here."

Trever hesitated, looking reluctant.

"What's wrong?" Chase questioned, standing and cocking his head.

"Well… Jake _is _my brother…"

"Oh." Chase had forgotten. "Well, here's the deal. Come with us anyway. After we leave and tell N.C.I.S. where this is, they'll come and take Jake and probably bring him to a mental hospital. He won't be in any danger."

"Right…" Trever nodded. "Okay."

The two nearly ran down the hall, trying to locate House. After a few minutes of vain searching, Chase stopped.

"Great. Just great." He thought for a moment. "Trever, do you know where the cafeteria is?"

* * * *

OK, definitely the shortest chapter yet, sorry about that, but it has gotten to that horrible time.... when I have posted all that was already typed. And I'm pretty busy, but I should still be able to update fairly quickly. Tell me what you think.


	15. Brain Fog

A/N: Sorry about the wait. Like I said, I've reached the point where I posted all that was already written, so I'm posting the chapters as soon as I finish them. Anyway, hang tight, the ride's not over yet!

Wilson was baffled. He had no idea where he was, what was going on, or anything other than who he was. He didn't remember his job-though he did have a lab coat on; maybe some sort of scientist?-didn't remember if he had a family, didn't remember what he was doing, didn't know anything but basic facts. All he knew of his location was that he was in some kind of cafeteria.

_What is going on? Why can't I remember anything? Do I have amnesia or something? I don't seem to be hurt, though… _He sat on a bench and buried his face in his hands. _Okay, Wilson, keep it together. What do I know? My name is James Evan Wilson. I… Am I married? What do I do? Do I have a job? Stop it! Okay, I know my name. What else? I remember someone… a woman… my mom? Okay…. Wait. I remember now. She _is _my mom._

Suddenly a barrage of memories filled his mind, only of his childhood, he soon realized, but still… he let them come, closing his eyes for a moment.

Okay... focus on the now. _Where am I…? _

Obviously, a cafeteria of some sort. But where…? He heard footsteps then, and wasn't sure what to do. A dark fear began to creep into his blurred mind. Should he run? Maybe the people here had done this to him… The footsteps grew louder, and now Wilson could make out an irregularity to them. He hesitated for a moment, something in his thoughts telling him to stop and wait, that the person coming might help… He turned and ran.

* * * *

Chase jogged down a bright hallway, his breathing shallow, his heart racing-but not because of the strenuous activity. It was anxiety, the fear of not knowing that was keeping him in a tight stress. Trever was a few feet ahead of him, leading him to the cafeteria. Suddenly Chase's foot caught on something, and he stumbled, crashing hard to the ground. Trever stopped at the sound and turned. He hurried over to Chase.

"What happened? Are you okay?" Came the soft, worried question. Chase nodded, about to stand, but suddenly fell again when his vision blurred.

Trever frowned and said something, but Chase couldn't tell what it was. He had suddenly become very delirious, and was starting to think he was hallucinating, unless Trever really had a giant triangle above his head. Chase tried to ask what was going on, but couldn't seem to get the words out of his mouth. He took a deep breath, and there was a moment of stillness before all hell broke loose. The hall seemed to spin, glowing shades of deep greens and vibrant reds. A tree sprang up out of nowhere, plowing through the roof of the hall. Chase fell backwards, and ended up standing in a room. He tilted his head. Something wasn't right… A mirror covered one wall, and he reached out and touched it. The glass shimmered, as if energized by his touch. He stumbled back, startled by something of an electric shock that he had felt upon coming in contact with the mirror.

Then it broke, glass pieces showering over Chase, but somehow, he didn't seem to feel them. He felt as though he were in some kind of trance, almost watching himself through the eyes of a spectator. But whatever was going on didn't make any sense at all. Chase had never been so confused in his life. Wasn't he just in the hospital? Now he seemed to be in the woods. It was dark, so dark he could barely make out the fauna that seemed to surround him. He heard a snarl, and backed up—right into the corridor he'd been in.

Chase couldn't think anymore, his thoughts were so scrambled. His mind felt burned out, and he couldn't even hold a conscious thought together. If this was some sort of hallucination, it was the worst Chase had ever seen. But—something wasn't right. It was as though behind all his fried brain functions and fog of confusion, there was still logical processes going on—but he couldn't reach them. If this was a hallucination, he shouldn't be able to tell it was—should he? Or maybe not…

_Hold it together, Chase. You were making sense for a minute there, and it was actually coming back together… Keep it that way. Together. Together. _

Since only a rational thinking process seemed to keep Chase sane, he started reviewing math and science equations in his head. He closed his eyes, still feeling movement around him, but not allowing himself to see what it was. He was afraid if he did, it would trap him again, pull him into a living labyrinth of confusion and a twisted non-reality.

He didn't know what was going on, but at least knew how to avoid it, so that's what he did, all the while trying to rationalize what the heck was going on.

* * * *

House was walking as fast as his leg would allow. This was one of the times when he couldn't bear the results of the infarction. He couldn't get to Wilson fast enough, yet his leg wouldn't allow the speed he needed. House shook his head, storing the mental agony tearing at him in a far corner of his mind. The physical, however, was harder to ignore. House had lost track of when he'd had his last Vicoden, and Cambert's 'treatment' hadn't helped at all. Each step brought a deep shred of pain through his thigh, but he ignored it as best as he could and carried on.

_Alright, come on… I know she said it was near here…. Wait. I see a door.. Okay. Think I got it. _

House burst through the door and glanced around. Sure enough, he was in a large cafeteria, complete with tables and benches and a serving line. At first, he saw nobody with him, and he feared the worst. But after a moment, a quiet scuffling reached his ears. Eyes narrowed, he turned towards the sound, probing every corner until he found the source. When he did, his heart sunk.

Wilson was huddled in a corner, cowering behind a table. His pale skin and wide eyes gave him the appearance of a childish vampire. House limped slowly towards him, and he looked unsure, as if deciding what to do.

The fearful look on Wilson's face was enough to tear House's heart to shreds.

"Hey, Wilson… Jimmy?"

The man in the corner looked up at him with bloodshot eyes filled with uncertainty and confusion. He scooted back. But that wasn't what hurt House the most. It was the words uttered next that nearly sent him reeling.

"Who are you?"

* * * *


	16. Confrontation

Winslet smiled evilly as she fiddled with the controls of a complex machine in front of her, using her surprising amount of creativity to create a new, confusing world for her young patient. He obviously was clueless as to what was going on, having no idea that the whole thing was technically just a huge, advanced hologram. She rolled her eyes. It had taken long enough to get him into position. She'd had to put on that sickening helpless act. Although, she did think she had done a pretty good job. She always was the drama queen of the family.

Winslet frowned. Chase had lay on the floor and closed his eyes, and as she watched, he seemed to visibly relax. Her eyes narrowed. So this is how he was going to play it, huh? Well, she would just have to take it up a notch.

Having done her little 'interrogation' on him earlier, she knew all about what could break him.

"Let's see how he fares when we bring his memories into the picture."

* * * *

Jake swiveled in his chair, peering at the bright screens in front of him, showing every nook and cranny of his hospital. A frown creased his brow as he saw a familiar figure running down a hall.

"What? Now how'd you get there?" He muttered to himself, his frown deepening as he realized where the small body was heading.

"Why, you little…" Jake stood immediately, grabbing something on his way out. The knife glinted as he slipped it in a pocket.

* * * *

Trever was confused, to say the least. Chase had simply disappeared. Trever had been a few feet ahead of him, and was sure he was following, until he heard something behind him and turned, only to find an empty corridor. He hadn't been sure what to do, not wanting to leave Chase if he had slipped into one of the room for some reason or another, but after a moment of calling his name and waiting, Trever was pretty sure that wasn't the case. So he figured the best way to go was towards their original destination: the cafeteria, to find Wilson. Maybe Chase had found another way. It was unlikely, yes, but Trever didn't know what else to do.

To be perfectly honest, though, Trever was scared. He didn't want to be alone, even if it was his brother who was running the whole thing. In all factuality, that was part of the problem. Jake had always been different. At first, it had been good. When Trever was about eight, Jake had been a regular 12-year-old genius, always making improvements to the house and things like that. But then--... The past few years had been bad for the brothers-real bad. There had been a flood. It seemed so stupid. That water, the same thing, same mix of elements, that saved so many lives, that sustained human life, also was so deadly. Both of their parents had died. The boys hadn't known what to do. They tried to keep going to school, but it was too hard to keep up a normal façade without parents. So they dropped out.

Jake had rescued his laptop from the house, so he learned much of his knowledge online. He'd always been interested in medical science, and absorbed himself in learning more about it. But Trever had noticed his brother drifting away, losing himself on waves of loss and bordering on insanity at times. He'd tried to ignore it, but knew all along that it would never leave. Sure enough, the unstable mentality of his brother had eventually eaten him, and he'd become obsessed with changing the world through medicine-through whatever means necessary. But this… Trever never could have imagined he would go to these lengths. Obviously, Jake was even worse off than Trever had thought. It was really a shame. Jake was brilliant-he could have been a revolutionary scientist. But instead-he was this. There was nothing Trever could do to change that, he knew.

But there still was a love there. After all, Jake was his brother. Trever still held out hope sometimes. There had been worse cases of insanity, he was sure. Or at least-he hoped. Of course, a dark corner of his mind was always there, always saying there was nothing he could do, that his sweet brother was lost forever. A familiar tightness squeezed Trever's throat, and he shook his head, struggling desperately to clear his thoughts. What mattered right now was getting to Wilson. He knew what Jake was up to, and nothing could help the oncologist if Cambert was able to reach him first and convince him that his friends were really enemies.

_Okay, turn the corner, through the door, into the kitchen, through it to the cafeteria. Almost there—oh, no. _

"I thought I told you to stay in the room."

His brother's voice was convincingly calm, but Trever knew the truth. He could see a deep fury and frustration behind his eyes. Trever's heart beat faster, a hard, consuming fear beginning to claw up through his chest. He hated himself for being so terrified of his own brother, but no matter how much Trever loved him-he knew what Jake could do. And that—Jake didn't love him. Trever was a liability, and Jake--he didn't need him anymore. And since he had seen Trever the whole time--he knew his goal. And he wouldn't hesitate to stop him.

"I wanted to stretch my legs." Trever lied. He was surprised at the strength of his voice.

Jake snorted. "I'm not buying that. You should've just stayed out of this."

"You were the one that made me take your place at that hospital! Don't tell me it's my fault now."

Jake's eyes flashed. "No. That was different. That was when you were actually cooperating. Now you had to actually go and make best friends with that stupid auzzie doctor, and you're in my way."

"How? If you're so powerful, who am I to stand in your path? You shouldn't be worried about someone so trivial as me."

Eyes rolled. "Don't try that act on me. I know you aren't helpless. And that means, unfortunately, you are no longer needed to me."

"Jake! I'm your brother! Would you really kill me?"

"You're not my brother! My brother would stand behind me on this! You're the one tearing me down!" There was a real anger spread throughout Jake's features now. But something in his voice… a pain that steeped through it, showing in his demented eyes. Trever stepped back, looking infinitely sad.

"Jake… please. You can't do this. Do you even realize what you've been doing these days? Look around you!! This isn't right!"

Jake stopped a moment, looking lost, but then snarled and leapt toward Trever.

"No. You're just trying to distract me."

"Jake, please… I love you. Please, just stop. At least let us go."

"I can't do that. And you don't love me!"

"You're my family! Of course I do!"

"You stopped being my brother as soon as you turned away from me! You're nothing to me now! Nothing!" It came out as a tearing yell.

Trever stepped away from his brother, shocked. A lone tear traveled down his young, pained face. Jake pulled back, staring at him, a single look of near regret fleeting across his eyes.

"Jake… Jakey…." Trever whispered, reverting to an old childhood name he used when they were small.

Trever stepped toward Jake, but he stepped back, closing his eyes.

"Jake, please… just … I have to help them. You can't keep doing this."

Jake opened his eyes then, and they blazed with a renewed, terrifying blaze of insane, twisted determination of a very wrong kind.

"I can't let you do that." He grabbed at his younger brother then, pinning him against the wall and pulling out the knife. "I'm sorry, Trev. I have to." He raised his arm.

* * * *


	17. Countdown

Okay, this might be a move a little fast, but I needed to update and all that.. I'm sure you guys don't mind, right? :) Enjoy.

Chase heard his mother's voice. His eyes popped open nearly involuntarily. There was a scream, a crash. He sat up, even though he knew he shouldn't. His eyes widened as he took in his surroundings. It was their old apartment, made complete with an image of his mother lying on the couch with a beer bottle in her hand. She looked at him and lazily raised her eyebrows. A drunken smile twisted her face.

"You ain't lookin' so bad. How old are you now?" Her syllables were stretched and slurred.

Chase didn't answer. What was going on? How—he was almost certain this was no hallucination. But if not—then what? How could this be? Was he in some sort of drug-induced trance type of thing? He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment. With these people, it could be anything. Even-a sudden revelation caused Chase's eyes to open yet again. Even a hologram. But that was impossible, wasn't it? Even so… He began to search for a source.

* * * *

House couldn't help but look shocked. "You-you don't know?"

Wilson looked pained. "Should I?"

"I-I'm your friend…"

Wilson shut his eyes. If this really was his friend, he felt like a jerk. But still, he couldn't remember anything! It could all be a ploy. Maybe this person was an actor trying to trick him back into whatever he'd been doing that brought the amnesia on in the first place.

"Jimmy…"

"Jimmy? My name is Wilson…." Now he was more confused than ever.

Both men turned at a tapping. Footsteps. The man turned back to Wilson, looking almost frantic. "Please, Jimm-Wilson. You have to believe me. The man coming in here is going to try to tell you I'm not your friend. You can't believe him. Look at me. You are an oncologist at Princeton Plainsboro Hospital in New Jersey. Don't you remember at all? You treat cancer patients. You-you save lives. A lot. And I-… It's me, House. I'm a Diagnostician. I'm your… I'm your best friend." The footsteps grew louder. The man's eyes closed.

Could an actor really pretend to be so pained? Wilson opened his mouth to speak. That was when the other man came in. He was in a lab coat. He sure looked like a doctor.

"Dr. Wilson! There you are!" He spotted House. "Oh, dear…." He frowned. "Mr. House, what are you doing here? You know you aren't supposed to leave your room."

"Well, you could say it was kind of an emergency."

Wilson was surprised at the sudden and drastic change in House's tone of voice. Talking to Wilson it had been patient and kind, if not agonized and frustrated. To this man-the doctor-it was hard and bitter, with a deep hatred laid in it.

"How did you get out of your jacket?"

"What?"

"Yes, that nice jacket we gave you-the white one?"

House's eyes grew wide. "What?!"

Wilson mirrored House's expression. A straightjacket? Was… was he really crazy? The thought devastated Wilson more than it should have.

House slammed his cane on the ground. "Don't even go there. Wilson, listen to me. I'm not crazy."

But Wilson looked shocked. A flash had just run through his mind, this same man, sitting in an office, his name, Dr. Gregory House, M.D., on the glass door, holding a tennis ball in one hand. Wilson glanced up at the man called House, uncertainty once again streaming across his face.

House ran a hand through his hair, agony tearing through his heart. He couldn't believe how much pain he was feeling. This had never happened, not after the infarction, not when Stacy had left, not even when Wilson had left the hospital for a time. Just the thought of Wilson not remembering him-his only friend never even knowing him-brought an unspeakable and unknown sensation of agonized loneliness and despair forth in House.

Wilson stared at his face, eyes wide. House ran a hand through his hair again. Another flash, House standing in a room with a whiteboard, looking frustrated, that same hand running through his mussed hair.

The other doctor looked angered. "Mr. House, I'll not tolerate this behavior. I'm sorry, Dr. Wilson."

"Doctor? What kind of doctor?"

"Oh-Um…." The doctor looked flustered.

"What kind of doctor?!" Wilson demanded.

Before he could answer, House grimaced and abruptly sat on a nearby bench, grabbing his right thigh. Wilson had stood, and as he looked at him, staggered back. A plethora of flashes suddenly assaulted his mind. That same expression, same posture, same person, sitting, leaned over his right thigh… A hospital bed. House. An argument. A surgery. His thigh… Vicoden. Lots. An apartment. A team. Diagnostics. Oncology. And then… a longer one. Wilson and House, standing on two balconies, right beside each other, talking. About… anything. Medicine. Drugs. Chatting. And arguing.

"House."

He looked up, and an awestruck expression overtook his face. "Jimmy…?"

Wilson smiled. It was strong, yet comforting and concrete somehow. House smiled back. The other doctor tried to keep up his façade, but looked uncertain behind his fake authoritative expression.

"Mr. Wilson, I'm afraid you may have some fake memories as a side effect of the meds you've been taking. Just let me help…"

"I think you've done enough 'helping' around here." With that, Wilson pulled back a fist and slammed the doctor as hard as he could across the temple. Which was surprisingly hard, he mused afterwards, suddenly hoping he didn't kill him. Not that he didn't deserve it, but… he didn't kill. He wasn't that kind of person. The thought that he knew that made him feel exceptional. He turned to House, who was watching with a strange expression.

"Come on. We need to find Chase."

"Right."

* * * *

Abby Sciuto frantically scrambled around in her hastily set up 'lab'. She couldn't believe they hadn't found the doctors yet.

"Ugh, how can this be happening? We're so much better than this!! Come on, babies…" She urged, speaking to her machines. "You've got to hurry. Give me something…. Okay, count of three… I'm gonna turn around…One.. two.. Three!!" She pivoted, eyes wide, hands held up next to her shoulders and splayed out, as if expecting something.

Her eyes immediately lit up. "I knew it!" She jumped and raised a fist. "Gibbs! Tony! Kate! McGee! Get in here, now!" She ran out and down a corridor, sprinting to find her team mates. She'd just broken the case wide open.

* * * *

Chase stood, glancing around. If it really was a hologram, there had to be a projector somewhere, and mirrors… But then, also if it was a hologram, then maybe it was limited in it's size… Maybe he could just walk out. Unsure, he stepped a few feet forward, blinking. The images around him stayed the same. Walking a little further, he halted again, and his eyes traveled around. The same picture was still there, but… it was different. Faded a little, or something. Chase kept going. Soon, all of it began to dissipate and Chase reached something that somehow seemed… final. As he strode through the edge of the hologram, everything went hazy for a moment, then he was back in the hospital hallway. He couldn't hold back the smile that spread across his features.

Just then, two familiar figures appeared around the corner. Chase's eyes widened.

"You found him already?"

"Already? It's been-well, never mind. Where the heck have you been?"

Chase gestured behind him. "It's a long story. Basically, they had me trapped in a hologram… thing."

Wilson's eyebrows rose. "Woah. A hologram? How is that even possible? Wait…. You're Chase, right? Robert Chase?"

Chase stepped back, brow furrowed. "What? Yeah. I'm your friend… What happened to you?"

"Umm…. I'm not quite sure. I think they gave me some drugs that caused memory loss. Or something like that."

"Hmm. Wow. Well... we have to find Trever and get out of here."

"Who's Trever?"

"A friend. He's been with me the whole time. He's …. Well, he's important, all right? Really important. And… he's Jake's brother, but-."

"What?! You want to go find Jake's brother? Are you insane?!"

"Yes!! He's nothing like Jake, alright? You want to leave me, fine! But I'm going after him."

House looked taken aback. He couldn't believe the harshness of Chase's voice and the look on his face. "If you really care that much…"

"I do." The words were spoken softly.

"Then let's go."

The trio set off. Chase frowned. "I don't know where he went. I think he was part of the hologram, just to confuse me more, but before I was… in that… he was leading me to the cafeteria. So I'm thinking our best bet would be to head there and see what happens."

"Right. Well I know he's not actually in the cafeteria, but he could be in a hallway on the way. So… yeah."

Chase nodded in agreement. The three stepped quickly through the halls, Chase occasionally calling out Trever's name. Hope was growing thin when they rounded the corner—and froze. Winslet and Mestic were in the middle of the hallway, pistols in hands.

"Freeze. I should shoot all three of you right now, but that would ruin things. Come with us, and we'll try not to kill you."

* * * *

A raging, fiery fury suddenly spread through Trever's body as Jake brought the knife down. Trever brought his hands up and grabbed his brother's wrists, wrenching it back and stepping right up in Jake's face.

"Fine. You're not my brother? I mean nothing to you? Then ditto. I hope you're not scared to die." A flash of fear skipped through Jake's irises. "After all, you've gotta pay for all those people you've hurt... killed…" Trever suddenly turned and shoved Jake against the wall, reversing roles. Jake's wrist was slammed savagely against the wall, and there was an audible crack as the bone gave. Jake cried out in pain and the knife dropped to the ground.

Trever's eyes welled up. Infuriated, he hardly noticed. Jake stared at him, into his raging, unbelievably heartbreaking crimson eyes, and suddenly something broke inside of him. It was as if he'd been in a hypnosis the past four years, and seeing his brother like that had finally-… _finally_… broken the trance. He slumped back against the wall. The change in his posture and expression startled Trever, who stumbled back. Jake slid down the wall, his mind traveling back over the past months-even years.

"God forgive me…" He whispered hoarsely. "What have I done?"

Trever stared at him, shocked. "… Jake…?"

The older brother looked up at his smaller, but so much wiser relation. "Trever… tell me I didn't do all that…"

Trever couldn't speak. "… Y-you're really back?... Are you… really…" Trever's chest seemed to close up. "Jake…" He collapsed to the ground, body shaking, resolve dissipating, sobs racking him through until he felt as though he were convulsing.

"Yeah, Trever…. I'm back. It's okay. I'm alright." He crawled over and swept his crying brother into his arms, running his hand through his hair.

"Thank God, Jake. Thank God…" He murmured, smiling through the rain cooling his fiery eyes.

"I'm such an idiot…" Came the whispered regret.

"That's the understatement of the decade," Trever muttered, chuckling quietly.

"I'm so sorry… I mean it. I'll… I'll do anything to make up… well, nothing can make up for this. But—I'll do anything to help fix this as best as I can. I promise."

That was when they heard the three gunshots.

* * * *

Such a one for the cliffies, I know. That's how I roll.


	18. Tears

A/N: Hey, guys…. I am so infinitely, insanely, completely sorry that this upd8 took sooo long. It just… summer was so busy, and then I didn't have internet, then, to top it all off, I lost my laptop. I had a rewritten version of this up earlier, but like this one a whole lot better. So enjoy… or whatev. It gets bad here, just keep keepin' on, right? :]

* * *

Chase wasn't sure what was going on at first. Cambert had just suddenly turned around and raised his gun, despite Winslet's protests. Wilson had lunged for him, and the gun went off three times. House shouted, Winslet ran, and Chase… he had felt a pressure somewhere in his lower right abdomen, and fallen to the floor. The pain didn't hit until a few moments later. But it was astounding. Chase's very breath was taken away, sucked from his mouth with the jackhammer that had hit his stomach.

Wilson immediately dropped to his knees next to him, House a few seconds later.

"Chase, are you alright?!"

Chase couldn't reply. His lids had squeezed shut and he was curled unceremoniously into a tight ball. Blood was already spreading stark against the white tiled floor.

"God… No…. Okay, just stay calm. Keep breathing. Is there an exit point?"

Chase did his best to shake his head, but his vision was already blurring into smudges of darkness.

"Come on, Chase, stay with me. Come on..." Wilson quickly pulled his lab coat off and bunched it up, pressing the wad against Chase's wound to stop the flow of blood. Chase cried out in pain. Wilson cringed, but didn't move it.

Chase couldn't breathe anymore. Each intake of air was too agonizingly painful. He heard an inhuman moan from somewhere. It took a moment for him to realize that he was making it. Wilson tried to shift him, but at Chase's sudden halt of even small gasps, he froze.

"Dang it, Chase, don't _do_ this…"

This entire time House had been sitting back on his knees, hardly watching, his eyes glazed over. But suddenly he leaned forward, sliding nearer the fallen body. He bent over Chase and talked quietly, but fiercely.

"Listen to me, Chase. You are going to get through this. Alright?" His voice dropped even lower as a strange tightness clenched House's esophagus. "You've always been my most loyal… team member. You always do what I say, right?" There was a barely perceptible hint of desperation in House's voice now. "Well, you have to do it now. Stay here. Stay with us. You are going to make it. You've gotten through this entire thing and been… You haven't been broken. You can't give up now. If you do-… You can't. Because I can't-…" He glanced away, then looked back, swallowing and speaking just above a whisper. "I can't lose you. You're one of my only… My only friends."

He sat back a little. Chase could've sworn he saw his eyes glistening, and nearly managed a smile. Wilson's grip had stayed the same this whole time, even though he had leaned back. Now he came forward again, jaw firmed, resolve concrete.

"Alright. We _will _get this." All the while he was speaking in strong, comforting, doctor-ish tones, he was working as best as he could to stop the blood flow, do whatever he could to help his friend-_patient! He's just… just another patient. …_

House's mind was racing. How the heck were they supposed to get Chase to the hospital without completely killing him? They'd have to drive there-no phones in Jake's 'hospital'-how was that even like a normal hospital?-so they couldn't call anyone… And they sure as heck weren't staying here. From what House had seen, they didn't have equipment for this anyway.

Jake suddenly appeared around the corner then, followed by someone who looked like a smaller version of him. House tensed immediately. The teenager stepped forward.

"Don't worry. I'm Trever. Chase knows me. Jake-… Well, Jake is… he won't hurt you. Please. Just trust me."

House frowned, but remembering what Chase had said about Trever and how urgent he had been to get to him, he reluctantly nodded. Trever looked down then. His face grew completely white. He suddenly turned to Jake, tears once again springing to his eyes.

"Jake… you gotta help him. Please, Jake, you have to have something… please…"

Jake stared at his brother. "… Alright. Stay here. I'll be right back."

Trever nodded, then ran over to kneel by Chase's head. He laid a hand on his cheek as the tears overflowed. He sunk into himself and silently cried. House stared at him, squinting. How could this-this boy have become so close to Chase in such a short time span?

That was when Jake arrived again, sprinting through the hall with something clutched in his hand. He turned the corner and ran over, then, like the rest of them, knelt. He unwrapped the thing in his hand-some kind of patch or something-and reached for Chase.

"Wait!" House called, setting his cane on Jake's trembling hand. "How do we know we can trust you? For all you've done, you could just be killing him with this."

Jake's gaze traveled down to his hands. But they came back up suddenly and bored into House's. They were wet.

"I can completely understand why you don't trust me. I have been… well, you can't really put a name to what I've been. Insane. Stupid. Idiotic. Psychotic. But if I don't do this, Chase will die. There isn't anything else you can do, and you know that."

House pressed his lips together. "Fine. But I want him to do it." His finger was pointing at Trever, who looked surprised. His lips parted, as if he was going to object, but then he simply nodded and held out his hand.

"… Fine. You know what to do." Jake handed the patch over to Trever, who quickly unrolled a part and fiddled with some things before turning to Chase, who was miraculously still awake and in the same position.

"Hey, Chase…" Trever said softly. Chase didn't-couldn't-respond. "I'm going to put this on, alright? It's going to hurt for a second, but then it'll help." Chase managed a near imperceptible nod.

Trever firmed his jaw and pulled Chase's coat aside, then pulled a knife from his pocket and cut his shirt away. Examining the patch one last time, he carefully set it over the bullet hole and smoothed it over.

Chase gasped and gritted his teeth hard, hands trembling. Sweat was pouring from his brow, and his eyes were shut tight. Jake then jumped up and ran outside, and soon the sound of a car engine could be heard. Trever turned to House and Wilson.

"We have to go. Come on."

Trever and Wilson somehow managed to get Chase into a position so they were able to carry him out to the car-a black suburban, of course-and into the backseat. They put the middle seats down and stayed with him in the back. House sat a little farther back, head down, hand absently rubbing his thigh, muscles tensed. Chase had visible relaxed a few minutes after the patch had been put into place. The car purred to life and they quickly but smoothly pulled out of the parking lot, headed to Plainsboro.

* * * *


	19. Home Again

Ch. 19: Home Again

A/N: Again, guys, really sorry for the wait. School, other stories, etc. But hope you enjoy anyhow! How excited r u for the 2-hour premiere? I'm so stoked!! Oh, and no, this is not the last chapter. It is not over yet :]

****

Cameron was bored. She was working ER, but nothing was coming in. So now all she could do was sit… and worry. They still hadn't found House, Chase, or Wilson. Tony had talked to her earlier and said something about their forensics expert finding some DNA something-or-other, but still they were here. She stared at her tightly folded hands, trying to hold out some hope but also realizing the hopelessness of the situation. It had been almost a week now. They'd left nothing behind… no evidence… no notes…. Nothing…. Except a deep sense of emptiness and loss.

* * * *

Foreman sat at his normal place in their diagnostics room, twiddling his thumbs. The hospital was eerily quiet-seemed like it had since the three doctors left. Foreman had never been particularly close to any of them, but… They were a part of the hospital. It was just—just dead without them. Three very crucial pillars of the building had been removed, sending it crumbling to it's knees. Cameron was a wreck, hardly sleeping; Cuddy never talked anymore, and she always looked so weary she might just collapse anytime. Even some of the doctors and nurses who weren't so close to the three would walk by the glass room sometimes, glancing sadly in those doors, after listening to the story of another cancer patient dying, asking for Dr. Wilson the whole time. It brought tears to one's eyes. _Tears, _Foreman mused. _Those were one thing House never shed. _There would be a lot-too many-of those if they failed to return to their beloved home. Foreman rose from his seat. He was restless. And wanted…. Wanted company. No one should be alone at a time like this. He opened the door and started down the hall.

* * * *

Cuddy glanced out office doors, a small part of her mind still holding out the silly hope that she would see House limping up to the hospital with Wilson beside him, rolling his eyes while House griped about being woken up too early. An uninvited pressure sank low in her chest, and she fought against the wetness that had suddenly assaulted her eyes. She turned and glanced down at the floor, imaging meek little Chase stepping tentatively onto it, holding the file that had been in his hand when this all started. It was just House's last patient's file-Cathy something-or-other. It was stupid. She couldn't even remember what she'd wanted it for now. A deep edginess suddenly burned deep within her bones, and she stood, taking deep breaths to hold back to hold back the sobs that threatened to wrack her body if she allowed them to. Quickly stepping out of her office, she turned to go and nearly ran into Foreman, who seemed to be almost running somewhere.

"Oh—sorry. Umm… I was just-… I'm sorry. I'm just feeling really restless… I was going to go find somewhere to walk it off or… talk to someone, you know?"

"Oh. Yeah. Actually…. That's what I was doing. Heading to the ER. I think Cameron is in there. Uh… you wanna come along?" He asked, awkwardly shifting his feet. Everyone was a little softer now…. Almost shyer, actually. House had this presence… brash, annoying, jerky… but you could talk to him without fear. Which was completely ironic. It was just easy to stand up to him because he was almost like a bully you wanted to tell off, but … not. Wilson.. well, he was always this quiet, strong comforter, giving strength to everyone just by being there. And Chase-.. well, Foreman didn't really know what it was about Chase. His youth? Innocence? His naïve demeanor but quite knowledge? He couldn't quite name it, but there was a peace about him. Everything just seemed quiet and dead, yet on edge without them, as if the hospital was going to burst at it's seams now that the stitches were gone.

They arrived at the ER to see Cameron sitting with her head in her hands in a chair by the doors. Foreman and Cuddy sat next to her, one on each side.

"Hey, guys," she greeted, hardly looking up.

"Hey." Was the monotonous, automatic reply from both.

There was a silence that stretched on for awhile, each lost in their thoughts, before Cameron whispered quietly, "I was thinking about them, too. Do you think—do you think they're gone…. For good?"

Neither one answered, their thoughts being voiced from the small, soft lips. Foreman sat back with a hand over his eyes, Cameron dropped her head into her hands, and Cuddy sat back and finally allowed the tears to run down her cheeks.

That was when the door burst open and an unbelievably familiar voice burst out, "I need a gurney out here!"

* * * *

House had hardly realized how much he had _really _missed PPTH until he found himself staring at it as they pulled into the parking lot, a strange lump growing in his throat. He was doing that a lot lately, he realized. He must be getting soft. Well, he'd just have to make up for that once he got his ducklings back in line. As soon as the van stopped, House said, "I'll get a gurney", and hopped out, walking more slowly now that the adrenaline had drained from his system, leaving him with stabs in the leg every step.

The ER doors were just ahead of him. He struggled to maintain his composure as he stepped through them.

"I need a gurney out here!" Brash, as always. House held back a smile at the totally shocked expressions on Foreman, Cameron, and Cuddy's faces.

"H-house….?"

"Well, who were you expecting? Dr. Phil? Come on, get me a gurney and an IV. Plus we'll need some morphine, anesthetics… and get a surgery team prepped."

The three doctors just stared at him for a moment. Cuddy was the first to recover—slightly. She motioned to Cameron.

"Go-… uh.."

"Yeah. I'll get it." She hurried off.

Everyone was at a loss for words for a moment. Cuddy stepped forward, reaching out a hand and then pulling it back, as if afraid House wasn't real and would disappear if she touched him. In an extremely rare moment of tenderness, House grabbed her hand and pulled her to him.

"I'm really here. We all are."

She stared up at him for a moment, into the depths of his haunting blue eyes, then suddenly wrapped her arms around him and sobbed.

"Why—Where have you been?! Where are the others?"

House pulled away. "Chase, he…. Needs help."

Cameron rushed back in with the gurney.

"Where?"

House turned and hurried out the doors, followed by Foreman, Cuddy, and Cameron, on various sides of the gurney. He led them to the van and stepped aside. Everything froze for a moment as the group approached the dark car. Their eyes widened, taking in the dark blood staining the seats, the still form of Chase, the trembling, shocked form of Wilson, and two unfamiliar faces. Cameron let out a small cry, Foreman stumbled back, and Cuddy blinked, face turning ashen.

"Is he--?"

"Would I get a gurney if he was? What are you waiting for, a miracle? Get him inside!!"

House's tone didn't have it's usual edge.

Wilson came and sat next to him on the asphalt, staring at the dirt that was starting to cover his shoes.

"He'll be okay."

"I know."

It was enough.

* * * *


	20. Distraught Wonderings

**A/N: Sorry 'bout the wait, guys.... Better than last time, though, right? :] Lots of dialogue in here, but I think I managed to keep it interesting. Enjoy! (Oh yeah, thought I would mention--I haven't been doing disclaimers because I don't believe in them. I am writing a FANFIC so _obviously_ I own nothing and should not be sued. This is, after all and what this site is for... We shouldn't have to do these. So there's my mini-rant for the day. Sorry. Again-enjoy! **House, M.D.-Don't Let Go, Chapter 20: Distraught Wonderings

* * *

Kate, Tony, and McGee stood against the back wall of the observation area in the surgery room, silent as the scene below unfolded, peace and turmoil folded within organized chaos. The three doctors and one teen in front of them stayed stock-still, staring down through the window at their friend, who was now desperately fighting for his life through a haze of nothingness and pain, delirium caused by drugs and blood loss. Kate peered at Trever, frowning. He seemed like he'd been through so much in such little time…

She stepped up to the window and draped an arm over his shoulder, pulling him to her side. She could feel tremors running through the teen's lanky form. Kate gazed down at the scene below, the scene of craziness, of gentleness, of so much red….

Kate was standing where she could see the monitor clearest, so she was the first to see the line, almost before the piercing wail filled the air. Trever went completely stiff for a moment, realizing what was happening, then crumpled back against her side, finally turning and sobbing into her hip. She held him tight, holding back tears of her own, blinking slowly. Next to them, House turned and strode out of the room, the door slamming behind him. Tony and McGee slowly walked up to the window, eyes glazed, while Wilson waited a moment, glancing longingly at Chase once more, before following House out.

The two male agents leaned against the rail, Tony placing his head in his hand, McGee sinking to his knees and shaking his head. Below, shouts of 'charge to 260.. clear!' ring out, followed closely by a _bzzt _and more constant screeching.

The string of tension vibrating through the air seemed like it couldn't be cut with the scissors of faith. Tony could tell Chase was a fighter. He hadn't known him for long, still didn't know him that well, but if he wasn't at least stubborn, he'd have been gone long ago.

* * * *

Wilson watched House from a distance, his already tearing heart dissipating at the sight of his despondent friend. He was pacing. House didn't know what to do, that was for sure. Usually, he'd push whoever the problem was away, ignore them, not come near them, until the problem was gone. But this time…. This was different. Oh, was this so different. After all they'd gone through…

Wilson couldn't help but think it was his fault. It was part of his nature. Maybe if he'd gotten to the stupid gun sooner, shoved it up more, or to the side. Even if he'd jumped in front of it…

"Stop it."

Wilson started, looking up. House had stopped pacing and walked over-_how had he not heard him?_-and was now standing in front of him with an incredibly weary, concerned, and slightly agitated expression.

"S-stop? What?"

"Stop blaming yourself."

"I- but…House, I could've done something.. I could've—should've…"

Wilson opened and closed his mouth a couple times, then suddenly snapped it shut as wetness gathered in his lids. Something between a gasp and a sob escaped his mouth, and House gathered him in his arms-actually pulled him into an embrace, a _hug_-and held him there, trying to hide his own quiet tears.

"You said it yourself—he'll be alright. He has to be." There was a pause. "Who else will I be able to throw my insults at without retort?"

It was weak and they both knew it, but it brought a pathetic chuckle that was half-hearted at worst, and a tear-filled assurance at best.

* * * *

Pure relief. That's what Kate felt when the slight pause in the scream was heard. A pause, followed by a _beeeeeeeeeep…. Beeeeep--… beep…beep…beepbeepb….beep.b…beep…beep…beep…beep…_

He was alive. They'd saved him. And gone right back to work.

"A-agent Kate?"

The whisper was so soft that Kate almost wouldn't have heard it if it hadn't been for the sudden pulling away of the body from her. She turned to him.

"Yes, Trever?"

"I'm sorry."

She was taken aback for a moment. This boy was apologizing for crying when a friend was dying?

"Trever, you don't have to apologize for anything."

He blinked, apparently thinking. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Hey, I'm sure Dr. Chase will be fine…"

"That's not what I meant…. I have no home."

The pure dejection in his voice brought the lump back to Kate's throat.

"Oh… We'll figure something out, don't you worry."

"Right. Like dropping me off at some crappy orphanage?"

"No." How had this boy been raised? "No, Trever, we'll find a fantastic home for you, I promise."

"'Kay." He didn't sound very reassured.

Tony turned to him. "Hey, why don't you come with me to get some food? How does that sound?"

"Sure." Trever turned and Tony slipped an arm over his shoulders, guiding him out the door and down the hall.

Tim turned to Kate. "He's really only fourteen?"

Kate shook her head, not in the negative, but in wonderment. "Yep. He seems so much older, doesn't he?"

"Definitely. Poor kid's been through a lot."

"I don't think we even know just how much 'a lot' is." Kate said, looking out through the door Trever and Tony had disappeared through with sorrow and empathy. "He seems to have become extremely close to Dr. Chase."

"Yeah. He can't have had many friends through out the years. Dr. Wilson told me what happened-about Chase not leaving without him. That's crazy. How long had they known each other? A week? And yet they have such a strong bond…"

"It's not often you see something like that." Kate commented sadly, but a half-smile had quirked her cheek.

"That's for sure. He seems to have taken a liking to you and Tony as well."

Kate cocked her head at him. "Why do you say that?"

"Really, Kate? You can't tell me you didn't notice. He hugged you and cried even though he hardly knows you. He went with Tony without question. He trusts you guys already. You seem to have that effect."

"He's shell-shocked, Tim. He'll take comfort from anyone."

"Kate, don't try to be modest. It's a good thing. He needs people."

Kate nodded, staring down at the lifeless form of Dr. Chase. "Yeah. Especially after Chase was ripped out of his life just as roughly as he was shoved in." Kate would never know the accuracy-or irony-of that statement.

"MmmHmm. You know, I think Tony's idea of eating was a good one. The surgeons have everything under control here."

"Right."

The pair headed out into the hall, following the by-now-familiar path to the cafeteria. They neared their destination and subconsciously increased their speed, only to be stopped by a distraught Tony leaning over a small figure on the floor. He spotted them and turned, face ashen and shocked.

"It's Trever. He collapsed!"

* * * *


	21. Resolution

**A/N: And I promise myself I wouldn't do this. It's been like 3 months, I'm so sorry. This just was NOT going **_**anywhere,**_** so I decided to totally re-vamp the last fraction. I got so wrapped up in life (darn the thing) and man, just lost it. So here 'tis: re-written, revised, relocated…. Well, not the last one. But here's your Christmas present: the last chapter… I think (I'm so bad at finishing things)… Love you guys, you've been soo great (if any of you out there are still with me at all… KUDOS!! I wouldn't :)! Oh yeah, I've also been working on a full-length novel I hope to get published, so that's taken a great chunk of my writing time X]. Much luv (and holiday greetings!), Principessa di Morte.**

Trever awoke to a soft beeping. It was warm, there were soft blankets covering his torso, and a squishy material underneath him. _Hospital._ Having spent so much of his life in one, it registered almost immediately. He blinked, glancing around. To his left sat a softly snoring Wilson, one hand draped over Trever's bedrail. Kate and Tony were in the corner, Kate's head resting gently on DiNozzo's chest. They, too, were asleep. McGee was walking through the door, and stopped abruptly when he saw Trever's eyes were open.

"Hey!" He exclaimed quietly, walking over to the bed. He nudged Wilson's shoulder on the way by. "How're you feeling?"

Trever swallowed, his throat feeling like a porcupine. "O-okay… Tired."

Wilson spoke up now, blearily rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "That's to be expected. You've been out for about two hours, you collapsed in the hall on the way to the cafeteria with Tony. Do you remember?"

Trever squinted, thinking back. Yeah. They'd gotten out, and Chase… Chase!

He sat up quickly, startling McGee and Wilson. "Is Chase okay?!"

"He's fine. The surgery went well after…. He's in ICU. You can see him soon. But first…" Wilson stood. "We've gotta make sure _you're _okay. What happened?"

"I-I don't know. I was just… walking down the hall, with Tony, and I got dizzy."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Wilson leaned back. "Well, it's probably just stress. No problem. If you want, I can get you some pills that'll help you relax, but other than that, you'll be fine."

Trever smiled. "Great." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then peered at Wilson. "Hey… where's House?"

Wilson's eyes clouded over slightly, and he half-smiled. "He's… with a friend. Had to do something."

Nodding, Trever laid back with a soft, knowing smile. "Right. Well, next time you see him… tell him I'm awake, will ya?"

Wilson grinned. "Of course. I'm sure he'll want to see you."

* * * *

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. …_

House sighed, gripping his cane with both hands, the black tip hovering inches over the glossy hospital floor. In front of him, the nearly motionless body of Chase lay, covered by stark white sheets, his face nearly matching their color. House leaned forward, letting out a breath.

"Hey… Wilson made me do this… said it might help you wake up sooner, or something…" House sat back, running a hand through his hair. "Here's the thing. You're my friend. Yeah, I said it. Friend, not just mindless follower. You are my friend, one of my only, and when… when that gun went off, and I saw you lying there… on the floor… I didn't register it for a minute. And when I did… I just wanted to run away. Because I couldn't—couldn't watch you… die. It killed me. And now… The surgeons, they've done the best they can with what they have, and the rest is up to you, alright? So.. so man up! Sure, you have a hole in your stomach. So what? Nothing like that has stopped you from being your idiotic self before. … Oh. And… um, Trever… he's waiting for you. I mean, I don't get how you guys… bonded like that in a week or whatever, but he needs you. So… wake up. Before I fire you."

House slumped back, jaw sliding pensively. He ran a hand through his hair and with the other rubbed his leg, muttering to himself.

"I knew this wasn't going to work… waste of time… When I find—"

"You've gotten soft."

The raspy, heavily accented voice brought House's eyes snapping toward the bed.

"Soft?" House snorted, then realized he didn't have a retort.

Chase glanced at him, blinked. "…Thanks."

"Whatever." House got up and headed to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Well, to get people, duh. You just died."

With that, House was gone. Chase blinked, chuckled and lay back down, the quiet beeping in the room strong and steady.

* * * *

"Sleeping Beauty has awoken… After a daring kiss from her handsome prince."

The sardonic voice echoed around the room, startling a still-dreary Wilson from his dream-like reverie. His eyes cleared to find Trever quickly pulling his blankets off, already starting to stand. He quickly moved to intercept him, but was been beaten by House.

"Whoa, slow down there, cowboy. Don't want you fainting on us again."

Trever sighed and sat back down on the edge of the bed, biting his lip in anticipation. House couldn't hold back a smile-which he quickly hid-at the childlike excitement in the teen's eyes. Tony and Kate awoke awhile ago, and they are now staring at the scene in silence, a quiet aura of joy evident around them.

"You look fine." House announced after a quick once-over of Trever. "Wilson give you your drugs yet?"

Trever quickly nodded, fidgeting. Wilson grinned and stood, opening the door.

"After you," House bowed with a great sweep of his hand towards the door.

Trever dashed out the opening, pausing only once to ask which room number. Then he was off, leaving the two older men behind.

"He's really excited to see him, huh?" House asked, limping along beside Wilson. The oncologist silently noted he was still without a cane.

"Yeah. It's all he'd been asking about all day."

"Hmm." Was the only reply from House. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and his gaze followed the path of the boy.

"You talked to him, didn't you?"

"Trever?"

"No. Chase."

"Oh. Yeah."

Wilson smiled knowingly. The pair continued on down the hall, in a companionable silence, infinitely happy to be home.

* * * *

Chase didn't even see the blur that flew into his room at first. Then his eyes finally began to track, and the messy-haired, bright-eyed form of teenage lifesaver came into view. Chase grinned.

"Hey, Trever!"

"Chase! I've been asking after you all day. Are you alright?! I haven't seen you since… I mean… Well, how are you doing??"

The aussie grinned, blinking at the rapid-fire words shooting from Trever's mouth.

"I'm fine. A little sore, obviously, but other than that, they did a fantastic job."

Trever grows sober quite quickly, sitting in one of the chairs by Chase's bed.

"I don't know what's gonna happen to me."

Chase frowns. "What do you mean?"

"Well… I don't have any parents, don't have a house, no guardians, no possessions…. Nothing."

Understanding dawns now on the blonde-haired doctor. "Oh… Trever, I'm sure… I mean, we'll find…."

"See? No one knows."

"We do."

The sweet, quiet voice that comes from the doorway is unexpected, but welcome. The owner is Kate, and attached to her is Tony, arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Both are grinning widely, in obvious exuberance.

Trever cocked his head. "You found me… a family? Already?"

"Well… yes." She looked to Tony, who walked over and put a hand on Trever's shoulder.

"Trever… we were wondering… if you'd let us adopt you."

The teen's eyes grew wide, and he stared for a moment, jaw slack. "Y-you mean it?"

"Of course."

"But… you're not married. I mean, well, not to—I mean, I thought you.." Trever's cheeks now matched his eyes.

Kate laughed lightly, holding up her left hand. Adorning the fourth finger from her thumb was a beautiful, sharply cut clear diamond, set in a pure gold band and sparkling in the bright light.

"We will be in March."

Trever suddenly shot out of his chair and into the startled Tony's arms, who soon smiled and held him tight while his shoulders began to shake. Kate joined them just as Wilson and House entered the room, looking around in slight puzzlement. Chase motioned them over and explained it all to them, and the two stared in some shock and silent pleasure as the scene unfolded. Cuddy, Foreman, Cameron, and the N.C.I.S. team were soon let in on the news of Chase, Trever, and the two agents, and soon Chase's room was near overflowing.

Wilson moved to a quiet corner and stared over all the people in the room, realizing quite suddenly there was a grin on every single face. A true, bright, joyous smile. How long it had been since he'd seen one, the sight was nearly foreign. But now…. No longer. They were saved, safe, all together, celebrating…. All was good. All was…

As it should be.

* * * *

**A/N: So, sorry if that was really abrupt or uk, but it's FINALLY OVER! Wow, that's a huge load off my mind, but sad at the same time. It's been a wonderful journey ;). Thank you to ALL reviewers, all readers, everybody. I'm horrible at endings, so go ahead and give me a slice of your thoughts. *giant sigh* Can't believe… off to the 'complete' button… You guys rock. **


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